~got to get rid of this so I can study again. I have the attention span of a three year old these days.


Well, now the man was disappointed, his previously stiffened posture deflated, his anticipations fleeing from him as the light pouring into the cell reflected off of the swaddled book, presenting the image to the man's eyes to be clearly perceived by John Seward's brain. Green would not move from the book, pretending that the evidence of disturbance it could not find, was there. Fatigue swept through John's leg muscles, lurching his first step into the cell before he managed to force himself to go forward, carrying the lantern by his side. The hard heels of his shoes narrated the short journey that brought him to no alternate conclusion.

The book had obviously gone untouched over the course of a week, while John's anticipating mind had played out various scenarios in which he would find the book moved. He had gone so far as to imagine the demon stealing it away, digging out one of the stones in his cell to bury the book as his dearest treasure. This sight before him, this reality, trampled his good intentions and creative imaginings and then spat on them. There was the book. Nothing had happened. It was so dull…but had the man really expected that much excitement? Was he really expecting to find another Renfield in this monster? Give the patient a fly and see what elaborate system of mad reasoning is grown from the generally considered sterile soil of something so commonplace? Had he really desired to observe the deterioration that obsession can inflict upon a once well cultured mind?

No, there is no evidence that he had. There was no evidence that he had expected anything, beyond his fantasies that suddenly became disturbing to him. In his profession, he sought to reassemble minds, to cure the sick, to save people from their tormentor, their madness. And here, he sought to do the very same. He wanted to be the sanction for this creature, a haven to hide from his tormentor and overcome his state of mind. All of this bordered on obsession…but he was not truly obsessive, nor in a state that was hostile to his self or others. He simply wanted to help people.

That is what it all came to. He wanted to help this creature, and his imaginings had been his hopes of finding progress made with that goal in mind when he returned to the demon's prison. That was the reality of the situation, he decided, and it was about time he returned to it.

John Seward lifted his head, maneuvering the lantern's focused beam to the corners of the cell. The vampire was huddled in the left corner, watching him with his round, haunted crimson eyes, standing out before his ghostly pale features. John blinked first in his surprise, and then creased his brow, narrowing his eyes at the signs of blood spatter about the creature's throat, and the wrapping droplets that reached over his jaw.

Whose blood was it? Hopefully the vampire's. John winced inwardly at the thought, unable to determine what his real preference should be. Abandoning the uncomfortable question, John stepped forward abruptly, sending the creature into the darkness within seconds. The light turned to the neighboring corner, the demon fled; the next corner, Alucard disappeared again; he was no longer willing to endure the touch of the yellow light. With only a mounting series of disappointments being awarded to the mortal, Seward breathed out a long sigh and let his lantern lower to brush against the side of his leg. Now John had to make his patient more comfortable, regardless of his own preferences. Despite his fondness of the light coming from the gaping door, John proceeded to retreat to it, and then closed the door to the extent that now only a vertical sliver of light pierced the darkness, a crevice shedding the invasive rays onto a side wall. John went to the center of the cell where he quietly touched the base of his lantern to the stones, and then seated himself beside it, adjusting the amount of light it emitted. Now the lantern gave off a hazy halo, portraying the graduating boundary between light and darkness around the man. Thus prepared, the neglected book was reunited with a pair of warm hands, consoled now that it knew that it could serve its purpose, and the book's cover was opened once the dirtied handkerchief had been folded and gently placed on the man's knee.

This is going to wreck havoc on my eyes, John licked his finger, turning to the first page of the novel. The man took a breath, going over the first sentence in his mind before reading it aloud.

"'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way- in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only...'"

Tale of Two Cities – Book 1: Recalled To Life, by Charles Dickens, it was an appropriate choice, the man admitted as the printed words were borne into the world by his voice, passing from his mouth to fill the silent crypt of a chamber. The stone possessively kept the voice from the outside world. Out there, it could easily escape. But not in here. In this cell, none of the words in this work of literature could flit away, unheard. John's voice was strong and forever preserved by the selfish stones.

"'There were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a plain face, on the throne of England; there were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a fair face, on the throne of France. In both countries it was…'" The man continued to read, turning pages that split his sentences, at times parted further by his inclination to lick the tip of his finger out of habit, through the course of an hour. When the hour expired, the book was wrapped in the embrace of the handkerchief and laid on the stones before the man took his leave, restraining himself from bringing light onto the creature to see its response to his reading session.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

John Seward returned within five days and read for another hour. At the end of this visit, he sought the demon's expression, but found it unchanged from the day he had seen it last. Seward's next visit came a full week later, but it did not last more than a few minutes, for the man found that he had nothing to read when he gazed upon the spread handkerchief. He found a pile of shredded paper positioned on the platter the useless cover was reduced to, unable to protect the fragile pages it had once guarded vigilantly. In total, it was a miserable little scene, pitiful in its helpless ruin. John raised the light to the vampire and found that the demon was watching him with stricken fear. With a small sigh and weighted features, John took up the scene of ruin, bundling it in his handkerchief, and then removed himself from the cell.

His returned presence in Van Hellsing's study brought a questioning look to the older man's eyes, seeking out the tale found in the man's absence of cheer or contentment. The bundle was lifted with John shaking his head sadly. "He must not have a taste for Charles Dickens."

Abraham, who had been informed of the reading sessions, said nothing until Seward excused himself, and even then the old man only prayed John would have a safe journey home. Minutes later, Van Hellsing occupied the dungeon corridor with a ready assembly of men. The door to the cell was opened, the staggering sight of so many humans tearing a shriek from the monster before it was dragged from its cell and properly chastised with a series of prepared tests.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Dark, light, flesh, limbs and movement, flashes of vision, the depths of a sea of pain drowning out everything else, erratic changes, movements, scents, humans, blood, voices, screams, and then the unsure end of it all with a pat on his head, returned to the cell and his safe, fortified corner, the walls giving him support and protecting him so that there were fewer directions in which his fear could branch. The stones were safe and cold and lifeless, contrary to anything human. It did not smell like them, the cell was quiet…safe…safe, safe…the stones are safe, the door is closed, the sounds and the light are gone.

The bleeding crimson eyes closed as the vampire's hair shifted forward with his forehead tapping his knees.

Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe. Alone is safe. Only safe. There is no other safe but here. Here, is safe. My safe. My only safe. I am safe. With my safe, I am safe. Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe…

The creature rocked with his repeating mantra, clutching his cherished gift of silence.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

John Seward arrived to bear the image of the chastised demon, two days later.

Before it had been fear, something engraved in the demon's gaze, but this, this was panic and escalating terror.

The door had been opened and then partially closed, to minimize the light, prior to the man's footsteps coming to the center of the cell where he seated himself down on a cloth spread out to protect his clothes from the layers of grime coating the floor. He had opened the new book and had read through the first few lines before the whimpers had broken through his voice and paralyzed his tongue. Unnerved, John's hand had adjusted the lantern to shed light into the corners, where he found the distressed creature afflicted with something close to physical pain as he listened to the man's voice. The whimpers became keening, and then an animalistic crying sound that accompanied the red tears streaming down the demon's cheeks where they collected at the tip of his chin, or were absorbed by his tattered garments. John could not see what became of the blood tears with the vampire huddled as he was, folded into himself and shivering like a late autumn leaf that had not the courage to fall while faced with the freezing winter before it. He was in agony, or it so seemed.

The effect astounded the man that sat limply in distraught disbelief, watching the demon. His voice left him, fleeing with his thoughts, unable to make sense of anything anymore. Was he torturing the creature by doing this? What…? He couldn't comprehend…it was just…unforeseen that this…would come about…

Oh, Mother Mary Joseph Christ…his is worse than I thought. A weakened hand eased the lantern to the ground, hiding the vampire's face with the shadows that rushed forward to obscure it, illuminating only its overlapping bare feet, dirtied by the grime caked on the stones. The end of the pant legs were slightly frayed with a few unmoving strands hanging from them. John observed, listened, and said nothing, still unable to prosess comprehensible thought. His mind echoed the inhuman grief and anguish, pressed into the corner of this stone chamber, where every sound was withheld from the rest of the world. Utter isolation, was the name for this sound, this cell. Utterly hopeless and devastating isolation.

Seward swallowed, his fingers shifting over the book he held against the cloth he was sitting on, his other hand resting on the lantern's cap, wilted without a stem of motivation to give it a life purpose.

What to do?

Approach? He will flee. Leave? That would be abandoning the creature to this Hellhole. Read? He will cry. He is crying. Read until he stops crying? What…what…? Think, you stupid fool of a man, think!

Wait calmly until he calms. That- that could work, that makes some sense.

John waited, moving only to bring the book into his lap and to take his hand from the lantern. His eyes watched the gloom that betrayed only the phantom outlines of the stones in front of him, listening as the sounds receded from the cell, and it gradually became quiet except for a few weak whimpers, each one consolidating the fact that the vampire wanted John to leave.

He wanted John to leave.

Seward closed and opened his eyes to the phantom stones, glancing in the vampire's direction. He could see white hands and sleeved arms now, hugging the demon's shins with his fingers clasping his wrists. His wrists were so thin, and those fingers…were too boney. It was frightening, almost.

John didn't like it at all. …At least the crying had stopped and the whimpers were fainter now, than before. Have to be optimistic in these kind of situations; never the pessimist, the optimist has the sounder mind.

Alucard keened again, taking Seward away from his thoughts. Mother Mary Joseph…Mother Mary Joseph Saul and Paul and Peter and Luke and Peter, Mathew, and John…be calm. Alright. Alrighty now, let's address this issue so this can be fixed, and then I can read again, perhaps, maybe or not. Let's see…

John went to a crouch, leaving the cloth he was sitting on, but then he froze. What he could see of the demon had stiffened, and the boney fingers had tightened and then loosened their hold to drop to the stones, readying the demon to vacate his corner, if need be. John licked his lips, searching about as he debated on what his next move would be…literally. He managed to stand but did not step forward, and the wary monster hand remained on the stones, twitching once with trepidation.

He could try talking to the vampire, to console it and make sure that it knows that he's not here to bring any harm to it. Soft and slow with sure pronunciation…the patient must know that you are calm and collected and that everything is under control…

"I'm-"

John blinked at the flash of movement, and then the demon was gone and Seward was left speaking to an empty corner. It didn't matter. The vampire would still hear him. He started again.

"I'm just reading a book. It's different from last time's. Nothing else is going to happen-"

Air caught in John's throat, his eyes widening at the rasp he thought he heard. His skin prickled with a chill when the voice returned, rapid and airy.

"Go away." There was a series of progressively shortening pauses as the vampire repeated himself with a growing, shrill volume. "Go away. Go away. Go away! GO AWAY! GO AWAY!"

A shudder shot through the man, responding to the sound. Then he held his head, covering his ears desperately and stepping back as the full front of unsuppressed screams tore loose into the cell, building on the stones, and ultimately becoming nothing more than an impaling, continuous screech.

John's eyes blinked blindly and he stumbled backwards, his head, light and dizzy. His throat was vibrating. He must be screaming too, it was so painful and terrifying. Light poured onto the man, turning him with dazed, clumsy feet, eyes trying to fix onto the body that came to him and rushed him out of the cell. They left the book and lantern…all of it behind, John's mind numbly took note of this, staggering and swerving down the corridor with his hands welded over his ears. The ringing…it was all still ringing… His unsteady head bobbed the vision of the unfamiliar man that was supporting him and trying to get him to stand still, to lean against the wall. Seward collapsed against it, staring and blinking at the man as he saw the man's lips move with speech, but only heard the ringing. My God…am I deaf?

A muffled humming came to his senses and John's brow crinkled in confusion. The man was pulling at his arms. Why was he doing that? John's hands were wrenched away from his head and the muffled humming became intelligible words. John heard others approaching, through his daze, and he looked around as men came closer.

"Dr. Seward? Dr. Seward, are you alright? Can you hear me Dr. Seward? Dr. Seward, please Dr. Seward, look at me. You don't need to cover your ears. It's alright, Dr. Seward. It's alright."

John gasped when he realized he had been fighting the man's grip on his arms, trying to bring his hands to his ears again. He closed his mouth when he found that it was partly open, and he held his hands still before him and nodded deeply.

"Y-yes. I can hear you. I-I'm fine, please…let go." The man released him, allowing Seward to breathe a sigh of relief, leaning back as he closed his eyes. He made himself adopt a comfortable, regular breathing rhythm.

Mother Mary Joseph, Saul, Paul, Peter, Mark, Mathew, John, Judas…not Judas, Peter, Mark, Mathew, John, Paul, Saul, Joseph, Mary Mother… He took in a lungful of air and let it out steadily. With his composure came embarrassment that ducked his head, opened his eyes, and reddened his ears in degrees.

"I-"

"John!"

The name lifted John's face, and he found himself staring as Van Hellsing split through the group of gathered men and took a hold of John's shoulders, full of concern. "John, are you alright? What did the Vampire do to you? John?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." John nodded forward as he tried to brush off the man's hands. Then he began to shake his head as the hands left. "I'm sorry for this, Van- Dr. Van Hellsing…"

"Call me whatever you want John, it doesn't matter." Abraham chided quickly, watching John with persistent worry. "Are you alright?" Abraham was holding his hands together now as John touched his temple and then ran his fingers through his hair, a little overwhelmed by his watching audience.

"I'm alright, yes, I'm alright. Don't worry so much. The Vampire…I must have scared him, I'm not sure. He was just screaming, and it was so loud… I apologize sincerely for this disturbance, Dr. Hellsing. I truly…I didn't mean for this to bother you, any of you, really, I'm sorry…"

Hellsing's features relaxed, but darkened as they did so, still watching John. The old face suddenly brightened and gave off a warm smile that stunned John when he saw it. A hand coaxed Seward away from the wall. "Yes, yes, alright John, come. We'll go upstairs where you can clear your head with some fresh air. Come." Van Hellsing guided the man upstairs and then took him to an open window.

"I-I left my book, and the other things, Dr…" John hesitated when he was shown a chair. Abraham cut in crisply.

"One of my men will retrieve it for you, not to worry. Your job, right now, is to sit down and drink some hot tea. We'll end these ventures into the dungeon-…"

John's eyes flew open from where they had begun to close, and he sat up in the chair. "No. No, this will not be the end of my visits, Dr. Hellsing. I don't fold so easily just because of a slight scare. I have experiences worse, in my own home, might I remind you. I have had plenty, well, too many, patients attempt to kill me. Screaming, I am used to…though this was a little different, I must say. It is still not the worst." Abraham stared at the younger man, about to speak when John smiled at him awkwardly. "The patient you met, Renfield, as he explained, tried to kill me for the purpose of drinking my blood to strengthen his 'vital powers'. Alucard did not attempt to eat me, though, he is more likely to try than any of my other patients, currently. He was only frightened, Dr. Van Hellsing."

John nodded, as if humored by the recollection, astounding Van Hellsing to the point that be gave up a grim chuckle. "You are one of a kind, my friend. Now I recall why I let you do these things."

John smiled with his teeth. "I thought it was because I saved your life, that our friendship is based on debt."

"Are you joking?"

"Yes." They shared the humor as John vented all of his stored relief with a final giving chortle. He looked off, out of the window. "The tea is coming?"

"Yes."

"That sounds good. You have very nice tea and even nicer chairs. I might become afflicted with your vice as well." Each face had a slight smile as Abraham stood, watching while color that had drained from John's cheeks, began to return.

"It is not such a bad sin."

"No." John agreed with a breath filling his chest. "No, it is not such a bad thing."

The tea soon arrived on a tray, accompanied by John's book and cloth.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Just below them, in the dungeon…

Flashes, movement, metallic glistens, injections in me, again, again…again. Returned to the stones. No pat. The door is shut. The light is gone. The stones are here, the stones are here, and the walls, and the dark and quiet, and no voices, no smells, only a little, leaving, then the human smells will be gone. Safe. Safe, my safe is safe, and I am safe and I am here and safe and safe and no more voices, no more smells, no more warmth or heartbeats. Safe again. Safe stones, walls, cold, mine. Safe mine. My safe. I am safe. No one here. No one…here.

Safe.

I am safe now. They are gone.