(Can I just say how cool this QuickEdit function is?!?)

The next day, Van Helsing staked out the chapel of St. Joseph. Last night's confrontation had left him shaken to the core. Though he just realized the importance of their friendship, he could clearly see that he didn't treat Carl like a friend. He treated Carl like a pet, an amusement, a twittering non-entity. He teased Carl just to watch the friar rant, for his own entertainment. Only, before now, Van Helsing had never truly seen Carl rant. Last night was a real rant. He began to see that the Carl that everyone knew, or thought they knew, was a carefully constructed façade. He resolved to be a proper friend, and try to get to know the real Carl Sherman.

As the sun began to set, he could faintly hear the inhabitants of the Vatican as they set aside daily tasks and began to gather for the evening meal. Bells rang out from various points in the holy city. Only one small window provided light to the chapel, but Van Helsing didn't light any of the candles. To do so would give away his presence, and he hoped that he'd found Carl's bolt-hole. The only question was, why this chapel? It was little used, obviously, but there were several like it. So, something to do with the saint? Joseph had been a carpenter. Perhaps, in some way, Carl saw the saint as a patron, since Carl created things like a craftsman does.

Van Helsing did not slip so far into contemplation that he failed to notice the door when it swung open. To his relief, Carl entered the chapel. Not even sparing a glance around, the friar went immediately to the altar candles, lighting them, then knelt again before the crucifix and the icon of St. Joseph. "Pater Noster..... Pater Noster.." the friar whispered.

Slowly and softly, but not too quietly, Van Helsing walked forward. When Carl didn't move, he knelt beside the friar, crossing himself quickly, and waited, as if letting some wild creature become used to his presence.

Carl raised his head. He stared for a moment at the image of Jesus, then turned to Van Helsing. "I am sorry."

"What?"

"I am sorry about last night. I had no right to speak to you that way. I apologize."

Van Helsing sat back on his heels. "OK, now you've lost me. I come back from a long assignment, realizing that I haven't seen my friend in ages, and feeling, I might add, pretty damn guilty about it, and you chewed me out. Seems fair enough."

Carl gave him a small smirk. "Yes, well, I didn't have to lash out at you like that." In the weak candlelight, Van Helsing could see the marks of strain and stress on the friar's face.

"On the other hand, you've gotten much better at cursing," Van Helsing pointed out. To his relief, the friar laughed quietly.

"Oh yes. I rather think I have." Carl bent his head again.

"Are we friends again?" Van Helsing asked quietly.

Carl's head dipped even lower. "I suppose, though I do think you might find better friends than damned, half mad friars."

"Why do you say that?"

Carl sighed. "It's a rather long story."

Van Helsing, not a tactile person in the least, reached out and laid his hand on Carl's shoulder. "How about this. We go down to the baths, have ourselves a couple of good hot indulgent soaks, then raid the kitchens. Meanwhile, you tell me about it."

For a long moment, Carl didn't move. Then, he turned to look at Van Helsing. His eyes searched the hunter's face, as if weighing his soul. At last, he answered, "All right."

They rose, and Carl quickly put out the candles, his hand still shaking, Van Helsing observed worriedly. As they walked out of the chapel, Van Helsing asked, "Why Saint Joseph?"

Carl's lips curled in an ironic smile. "Because he was a father, in a matter of speaking."