Eternal Night (II) Chapter 30: In Plain Sight, a van helsing fanfic

No CWs for this chapter. But there is a wee bit of fluff near the end because I'm predictably weak for V&F.

Chapter 30
In Plain Sight

The following hours passed quickly as Frankie, her brother, Vlad, and Vesper packed up their things and prepared to return to Budapest. Armand did his best to persuade his niece and nephew to at least wait until the following evening to make their departure as the sun was soon to rise, but Rémy was insistent that they needed to leave as soon as possible.

Frankie privately wished her brother would heed their uncle's advice, especially since traveling during the daylight hours wasn't the wisest of decisions, but she didn't have it in her to argue further with him. In spite of the distraction of these recent developments, there still lingered an unpleasant tension between the two siblings that only seemed to worsen whenever Vladislaus was present.

The woman released a sigh of resignation as she lifted Vesper's suitcase, placing it into the trunk of the car. While Vesper continued to say goodbye to Alayna and the others, Satanas and Rémy also deep in conversation, Frankie took a moment to look back up at the house in the dark of the early morning, recommitting it's façade to memory with a subtly mournful look about her.

"Are you all right?" Dracula inquired, moving to stand beside her after placing another bag into the trunk.

Frankie sent him a rueful smile before turning to look back at her family, everyone still saying their goodbyes.

"It gets harder and harder to leave every time," she admitted, lowering her voice as to not be overheard by the others. "I've always preferred the tranquility of this place… the privacy. I'm going to miss it."

"Agreed – particularly on the point of privacy," he replied, sending her a meaningful look. Her smile deepened as her gaze dropped to the ground with sudden coyness, the implication in his words not at all lost to her. "How much does he know?" he then asked, whispering, his eyes on her brother now.

"Let's just say that our afternoon sparring sessions are going to have to be postponed for a while."

"How long?"

"Given how angry he is with me right now? Could be indefinitely, unless I can come up with an excuse he'll buy," she said with a shrug and sidelong glance.

Dracula muttered a few choice words of disapproval under his breath.

"Also, fair warning, Mr. Leinhart," she added, pretending to be busy with the items in the trunk of the car after noting the suspicious way in which her brother was now watching them, "you and I may not be seeing much of each other for a little while."

Vlad made no effort to hide his displeasure that time. He almost looked insulted. She answered his unspoken query before he could even utter the words.

"He feels betrayed by both of us – that we even entertained the idea of…" her voice trailed off, but it was easy to comprehend her train of thought. Vlad exhaled heavily in understanding. "If we're to minimize the damage and restore peace, we're going to have to go back to playing the roles of common and indifferent acquaintances."

Without even thinking, he instinctually grabbed her arm, as if the suggestion of being parted from her was entirely offensive to him.

"There must be some other way," he whispered.

Frankie quickly sent him a desperate look, telling him with her eyes to let go before Rémy could catch the act and unwillingly, Vlad released her.

"Cariño! Come and give me a hug before you go, woman! I have no idea when I'll get to see you again…" Eduardo called out in interruption, the man evidently unable to distract her elder brother any longer.

Frankie turned to make her way over to him, doing her best to mask the disappointment she was feeling with a pleasant smile as Rémy proceeded over to the car, practically bee-lining for Vlad. But before he could engage his friend in conversation, Armand appeared, cutting through his nephew's path.

"Mr. Leinhart! Might I have a word before you all depart?" he asked, stepping between the two. Secretly grateful to the man for intervening, Dracula nodded, directing de Chacier with his gaze.

"Of course," he said, and the two fell into step beside one another. "I've been meaning to thank you for your unrivaled hospitality during my stay here," Vlad added conversationally as they moved away from the vehicle and Rémy's wary gaze. "These last weeks have been an absolute pleasure."

"It was an honor to have you under my roof. A privilege I hope will be oft repeated," Armand insisted with sincerity, but the moment they were a safe distance away from the others, his expression suddenly became grave as he lowered his voice. "Though I fear I must apologize on behalf of my nephew, your majesty…"

"There's no need," Vladislaus interjected affably, also bringing his tone down to nearly a whisper. "What's done is done and Francesca and I must learn to live with the consequences."

"Forgive me if I seem impertinent, but… why don't you just tell Rémy the truth? Reveal your identity to him and I am certain he will drop this absurd protective older brother routine."

"I'm afraid I cannot – as much as I may wish to."

"Why?"

Dracula turned his head to look back at Frankie saying goodbye to her cousins and Armand immediately understood.

"You two still haven't had that conversation?" he asked, surprised.

"She's yet to initiate, and I don't want to push her any more than I already have. There is an unspoken understanding, of course, but her refusal to openly acknowledge who I am…"

"No, no… I understand," de Chacier insisted. "I appreciate your forbearance." Vlad said nothing on that point. "Might I be so bold as to request something of you?" Dracula returned his attention to the man at his side, expression guarded but eyes attentive. "Whatever happens between yourself and Francesca, even if it means the two of you deciding that this arrangement isn't viable long-term – promise me that you will keep an eye on her… and her brother. At least until this business with Augustine is finished. I would infinitely prefer to have them here and out of harm's way, but…"

He paused, deliberating.

"Rémy tries to look out for Frankie," Armand continued. "Lord knows that woman has always been his biggest weakness. So much of what he does is because he wants to see her happy, or at the very least safe. But Francesca has always known her own mind and that can make things… difficult, for lack of a better word." A look of fondness softened his features. "Those two are just as headstrong as their father was; and as self-sacrificing as their mother." His gaze returned to rest on Vlad's face. "I know that I am in no position to ask anything of you…"

"I will do what I can to keep them safe – but I cannot shield them from everything."

"No. No, I wouldn't expect you to. But where it's important…"

"Of course. You have my word."

"Thank you."

The powers that be proved themselves merciful as the small group journeyed back to Budapest, the light of day muted by thick, gray clouds lessening the sway of the sun. With the ladies asleep in the backseat of the car, Vladislaus was left to endure the tense and awkward silence alone as Rémy took the wheel – evidently not having the lead foot his sister possessed, but his attention on the road ahead was fixed, his stare intense and unflinching.

No music played in the background as the nondescript vehicle pulled them along. The scenery was interesting enough, but not enough to hold the attention of either men.

Though a picture of control and general indifference, Vlad's mind was all turmoil as he found himself struggling with the very real temptation to reveal his true identity to his meddlesome, albeit well-intentioned friend in the driver's seat. As he weighed the pros and cons, he absentmindedly slipped his fingers behind the collar of his shirt, rubbing a phantom ache from the branded mark on his chest. Francesca was only in the seat behind him, and already he was beginning to feel the distance between them. Pretending to look out the window, he stole a quick glance at the slumbering woman in the backseat, the mere sight of her soothing the twinge of anxiety that had begun to tighten in his chest.

She was leaning to the side, her brow resting against the tinted window as Vesper used her arm as pillow. He smiled a little, turning his gaze forward again, while his attention remained wrapped up in the memories of the last few weeks.

One thing was for certain – the two of them needed to talk. No masks. No pretense. No assumptions.

If the pair were going to make this work, prophecy or not, they needed to start being honest with one another and Vladislaus wasn't sure he had it in him to continue in this charade for much longer. The forced separation presently instated by the woman's well-meaning elder brother went against every instinct in his being. Now was not the time to pull away, to create distance. Not when they had grown so close, when she was making so much progress.

"Are they asleep?" Rémy asked, glancing in the rear view mirror to get a better look. The break in the silence was a little jarring, and the question a sad attempt at conversation given that Vesper's deforesting efforts were loud enough to wake even the dead. But Dracula – feeling uncharacteristically generous – took pity.

"Yes, I believe so," he answered, wanting to leave it at that – but perhaps stilted conversation would be better than none at all? "This is the quite the mess your sister has found herself in."

Rémy grunted some nonverbal noise of agreement before replying, "I'm not sure mess is the most accurate word to describe what she's in right now – what we're all in by association."

"And yet, here we sit, on our way back to hell."

"Trust me – if the decision were mine, we'd only be returning to get our people out; but Frankie…"

"Was rather insistent, yes. I know." Dracula paused, strategically allowing the weight of the situation to linger before posing his next question. "Why does she care so much?"

"About Budapest or in general?"

"Both, I suppose."

Rémy hesitated, eying Vlad out of the corner of his eye.

"She feels a certain level of responsibility for the people, I guess."

"Why? She doesn't owe them anything."

"Considering that the pair of you have been thick as thieves lately, I'd have assumed she told you?"

Rémy made no effort to hide the bitterness in his voice.

"She elaborated on the events of her transition, and provided some additional details regarding her experience with Augustine…"

"Did she tell you about why Marcus targeted her?"

Dracula decided to play dumb for his own amusement.

"She mentioned a prophecy and a betrothal – the same one you had told me of shortly after we first met…"

Rémy shifted in his seat, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel in front of him rather nervously.

"Did she tell you who she's betrothed to?"

"We've only really discussed the matter in terms of hypotheticals. Nothing explicit." That was sort of true.

"It's Dracula," Rémy finally blurted out. The moment the name left his lips, however, the man sighed in relief, as if uttering the truth was like the lifting of some great burden he had been carrying around on his own for ages. "She's been betrothed to Dracula since 1830."

"So long?" It was more a statement of fact than the point of clarification it sounded like. Had Rémy been paying attention of his friend's face, he would have noticed the strain as Vlad struggled to keep the corner of his mouth from twitching upward.

Instead, the man sighed, as if in agreement.

"I know, right? Like, I get that Frankie is this strong, independent woman who prides herself on being autonomous and having the wherewithal to assert herself in any decision made that would impact her directly… but honestly, between the two of us," and he lowered his voice a little as if doing so made an ounce of difference, "as much as I hate the current situation, I think this might just be the kick in the pants my sister needs to just accept her situation instead of constantly running from it like she has been for the past three-hundred years."

"It's certainly a push," Vlad agreed with the laconic raising of his brow, "but I think you may be underestimating the strength of Francesca's will. If she doesn't wish to bring Dracula into this situation, it's safe to say she won't. Especially if doing so involves not only the open acknowledgement of the role she is meant to play, but all that that entails – the blood-binding, the position of power, the weight of the responsibility that comes with that…"

"True," Rémy conceded with a deflated sigh. "But I think being blood-bound to another person terrifies her more than anything else does."

"Because of what happened with Alphonse?" Dracula clarified.

His friend chuckled, a look of surprise painting his features.

"You two really got to talking, didn't you?"

Vlad tried to appear as nonchalant as possible.

"Well, you were fairly absent for most of the trip," he pointed out.

"Touché."

"She did tell me some of the details about her ex – though not everything. But I understand the hesitation to become bound in any sense of the word after what she endured."

"I know I'm probably the only one to feel this way, and Frankie certainly won't ever admit it, but I think Alphonse had more of an impact on her than Eduardo ever did."

"You think so?"

"Absolutely. Satanas certainly had a hand in liberating her, but he could never undo the damage she sustained while married to the Duke."

"It certainly explains why she's so insistent on setting and maintaining certain boundaries."

"It's bloody irritating sometimes," Rémy admitted with a huff.

"A little challenging if you don't like or agree with where she draws her lines, perhaps, but I admire her fortitude," Dracula countered, much to his friend's surprise.

"Really? I thought her obstinacy bothered you?"

"Initially, it did. But this trip and your… constant state of distraction," and he added that last point with a decidedly teasing look, "it afforded me the rare opportunity to get to know your sister in a way I don't think would have been possible had I stayed behind in Budapest. She's a lot stronger than I ever gave her credit for. It takes a great deal of self-respect and emotional maturity to do what she does."

"Am I really hearing this? You're defending her stubbornness?" and Rémy barked out a hollow laugh of disbelief.

"Francesca knows her own mind. She's strong and willful to be sure, but also empathetic, willing to listen to the varying sides of an issue – and her penchant for details and the truth make her formidable. There's no crossing her."

"And if that isn't the understatement of the century, I don't know what is."

"I've met many members of his majesty's court over the centuries," Vlad continued, "and your sister is the only woman I've come across in all that time with the potential to be a good monarch. She takes counsel, but is also bold enough to challenge authority – and she's certainly strong enough to hold her own in the face of opposition, which is more than I can say for most of the aristocracy. She won't sell her soul for comforts or power. I think Dracula could only stand to benefit from having such an ally and partner. He would be a fool to let even the prospect of such a connection go to waste."

"You really think so?"

"If given the chance, I believe he would make her happiness his own. In fact, I'm certain of it."

"This picture of Dracula you're painting is very different from the one I'm used to seeing… but I guess I trust your insights on this. You're the only one among us who knows him – really knows him."

"The benefit of having been in his employ for so many years."

There was a natural pause in the conversation.

"Vlad – what do you think we should do about the vampires of Budapest? We can incite them to outrage until we're blue in the face, but shouting about injustice isn't the same as doing something about it. We've been trying for years to inspire the people to action, but they just won't budge."

"The dangers of contentment. It's insidious, isn't it?"

"I thought it was bad when I was mortal, but I feel like it's even worse when you're one of the undead. When the fear of death is removed…"

"There's a notable lack in motivation," Dracula finished, nodding in agreement. "Easier to just wait it out. I'm not quite sure what more we can do to rally the people, short of compulsion… but I have to agree with Francesca's philosophy when it comes to that. The decision needs to be their own."

"Yes."

"The majority of the vampires in Budapest are young in comparison to those like myself, or even the pair of you. They don't understand their history, haven't struggled through it like we have."

"They don't know how bad it can get," Rémy translated.

"Many of them also didn't fight in the final war against the Knights of the Holy Order. That lack of conflict, of struggle, being so wholly removed from it – it breeds apathy, complacency."

"It's always been easier to complain about a problem than it is to actually do something about it."

"In my opinion," Dracula said after a heavy exhale, "if the alliance needs to do anything right now, it is to inspire the people into action. Give them a reason to fight – something that hits close to home. They need to not just see, but feel what is happening around them; so when the pacification and gaslighting efforts of Marcus and his council come in to tell them that all is well, their eyes will have already been opened. The truth needs to infuriate them into action – and if anyone has the power to do that…"

"It's Dracula."

"No," Vlad countered immediately. "It's your sister. Your uncle and the Spaniard were right. Augustine has unwittingly shown his hand. He is terrified of Francesca, of the power and rapport she has with the people in her role as Madame Nemo and as their yet-to-be-revealed future queen. They might fear her demon, as well they should, but they have a long history of respecting her. What's more – the wolves trust her, and they don't trust anyone that isn't their own." Vlad paused, seeing the wheels turning in his friend's mind as he remained silent, listening attentively. "She may not recognize it yet, but your sister is more queen of Budapest than she or anyone else may realize. If anyone can inspire the people into action, it's her."

"You think she can save them?"

"That is yet to be determined – but she can certainly get them to rise up. To fight back. She can lead…"

"She won't," Rémy refuted without missing a beat. "She's never wanted to be the leader of anything… not even the alliance. The responsibility for the lives of others was always too much."

"Then as your friend, might I make a suggestion?"

The man nodded.

"I think the time may come, sooner rather than later, when you'll need to stop trying to carry the brunt of that responsibility as you have been. She needs to know that no one else is going to do this. No one else can do it. Take away her ability to hide behind her beloved big brother and give her the chance to prove to herself that she can stand on her own two feet," Vlad offered carefully, grateful when Rémy appeared to take his words to heart, his expression pensive, focused. "If this trip to France has taught me anything, it is that things need to change. Our tactics need adjusting."

"Agreed. But whether Frankie decides to lead or not…" and Rémy turned to look at the man for a moment as he continued to drive, "I'm grateful we have someone like you on our side of the board, Vlad. Truly. Your commitment to the cause, your support, all that you've contributed in just a short amount of time – I can only hope that Dracula has just a fraction of your enthusiasm… if and when he ever decides to reveal himself."

Vladislaus smiled.

"I think his majesty would prove even more emphatic than I," he said. "Budapest… the Carpathians… all of that land, the forest and rivers, the villages and cities – it's his home. He's always felt a keen responsibility when it comes to his native soil, and its people. He is our king, after all, the father of our race. If the direness of the situation were revealed, I'm certain the dragon would rally to our side in an instant. He's not the heartless monster everyone makes him out to be."

"I believe you," Rémy replied, appearing more relaxed in that moment than he had since they had first all gathered into the car just a few hours ago.

The silence between the two men lingered comfortably for a time until Rémy, clearly deep in thought, voiced a long-held private curiosity.

"Do you know if Dracula is still in the city?"

"I've heard rumors, but nothing definitive. Why do you ask?"

"Do you think it would be possible – with the connections you have – to perhaps get in contact with him? Maybe share our situation with him? We could use all the support we can get, and I think Frankie's task of rallying the people would be infinitely easier if we had him already on our side – hell, if we could get him and Frankie to make some sort of alliance together, our chances of rallying the people would improve drastically, I think."

"I can't say with certainty if he's still in Budapest, but I do know that he keeps in contact with Bernardini," he answered with some hesitation. "Things are still very dangerous for Dracula right now. He will appear when the time is right."

"But if we could just communicate with him somehow…"

"I can check in with my connections when we get back to the city if you think that could help," he offered, playing his part beautifully. Rémy's gratitude was all over his face.

"I'd really appreciate it. And I think it would be beneficial for Frankie, too, if the two of them could work together towards a common goal, maybe even get to know one another in the interim?"

"That sounds like meddling to me," Vlad pointed out.

"It's not meddling… just… giving two tenacious personalities a little push?" Rémy offered rather lamely.

"You're as bad as Carmen," Dracula accused, earning the protestation he had been aiming for. The two chuckled a little at that. "No, it's an idea though. But I can't guarantee its success."

"I'd be grateful for the attempt." Vladislaus only nodded in acknowledgement. "I'm also grateful for the way you've been looking out for Frankie lately." This was added with a noted degree of caution, followed by a heavy sigh as if the man was struggling over his next words. "Leinhart – do you have feelings for my sister?"

Vladislaus had been waiting for that query from the moment this conversation had begun, so when it was finally voiced, he was fully prepared, mask of stoicism securely in place.

"I respect her… admire her, even – if I'm wholly honest. But if you're concerned about anything of a romantic nature taking place between us, I can assure you that there is no danger. It's as you said – she's destined for another, and I revere our king too much to interfere. These last few weeks have only convinced me that she could prove herself to be his perfect match. And I think, if she gave him the chance, he could be hers as well."

"You think so?"

"I do."

"She hasn't said as much, but I have reason to believe that she's come to care greatly for you," Rémy added.

The faintest curve of a smile softened Dracula's features as he stared blankly at the road ahead.

"We're only friends, she and I. You have no reason to fear on that account. Where Francesca and I are concerned, she is merely the fair Hero, and I – Don Pedro, sent to woo on behalf of Count Claudio."

Rémy chuckled.

"If I recall correctly, the Prince's end in Much Ado was a fairly lonely one."

"Yes, but also ennobling."

"You're too good for us, Vlad Leinhart."

Dracula then felt the soft caress of a finger at his elbow, Francesca's finger, and he smiled, crossing his arm over his front so he could touch her in return with his other hand without drawing the attention of the man at his side. Their fingers curled together briefly and it took every ounce of self-control to keep his face impassive.

"Hardly," he replied.