A/N-- Okay, here we go! This chapter starts a slew of Evanescence songs... well, actually, just two. The fifth chapter will be Sarah McLachlan. Anyways, here's a shout-out to my reviewers:
I AM SO SORRY TO ALL OF YOU!!! I SWEAR MY REVIEW ALERT ISN'T WORKING!! Forgive me if I missed your review in the last chapter, I will respond to all of them here (using the WEBSITE this time):
PineappleIce- Thanks for the review!
kay()- This actually is very draining... LOL.
I know what you mean. Angst has to be handled delicately... you have to do it just right or it comes out depressing and boring. But I'm glad you like the way I've attempted it!
Papilio- It's odd... I didn't even intend for this to come out so emotional! It's really just writing itself. You haven't heard the song I used in the other chapter? pity. It's a good one!
The Wishmasters- Well hah, I updated THIS!! Oh, wait, you beat me to it... you updated Second Chances this morning... dammit...
Jade- I hope this doesn't go overly angsty! I'm having fun with their emotions... it's fun to write them when they're so torn. The torn-ness peaks in this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it!
For anyone who didn't know this, last chapter's song was Take Me Away by Avril Lavigne. This chapter is Taking Over Me by Evanescence (lot's of 'taking,' eh? they need to make up their minds...) I had to edit the lyrics slightly in one place... anyone familiar with the song will know where. And there is the teensy weensiest bit of sexual content in this chapter... so if yall are against guys being together and kissing, you might wanna skip over part of this. JSYK.
Chapter Three:
Taking Over Me
He stirred only slightly, just every now and then in his sleep; Carl had not known one could sleep so deeply and not die. He sat beside Van Helsing the whole day, determined not to close his eyes and drift off no matter how much his battered body demanded release. But he was happy, despite his throbbing injuries, because his soul was contented with merely being in the Hunter's presence, drinking in and recording every nuance it found.
When Van Helsing began to stir a little more fitfully, Carl thought immediately that he was having a nightmare and reached over to run his hand lightly along the bare curve of his shoulder, murmuring quietly. But that didn't stop Van Helsing from twisting back and forth, not caring if he agitated his wounds. Carl's voice grew a little louder and his touch more insistent; he wasn't afraid now of him having a nightmare, but that he might be waking up and would soon ask where he was and why, and would leave when he found out why.
"It's alright, Gabriel, you can sleep some more." Carl said gently as the other man began to sit up.
"Carl?" He muttered sleepily, at last sitting up and beginning to rub the drowsiness out of his eyes.
When he regained his sight, the first thing upon it was the said Friar, sitting quite contentedly in the chair by the bed. His hand still rested lightly on his friend's shoulder, but quickly dove to hide in his lap when Carl realized that Van Helsing had seen it. The Hunter began to frown, looking down at the bed he lay on, then at the chair Carl was sitting on, and then back and forth between them several times.
"I'm confused." Van Helsing said dismally.
"I wasn't the only one who needed sleep." Carl smiled.
"So I kicked you out of your own bed?" He shook his head. "Bad me. I could've at least had better taste... your bed isn't that comfortable at all."
"Well be picky then!" Carl sniffed. "It suits me just fine!"
"That's because you're you Carl." Van Helsing stated dryly. "You sleep so deep you could be sleeping on top of a werewolf and not know it, then be confused when you woke up with fur all over you."
"Well at least I'd have you to scare it away for me. I don't know of any living creature with a face more horrible to look upon in the morning." Carl said sweetly, a smug grin on his face. One of Van Helsing's hands reached up instinctively to comb down some of his chocolate mane. No, let me do that for you... Carl stopped his thought there. I can't ruin the morning with those kind of thoughts... I still don't understand what they are...
"There you'd be wrong. It's evening." Van Helsing gestured out the small window to the darkness outside. "Or were you too busy being terrified of me waking up to notice?"
"Forgive me, oh Mighty Hunter, if I was staying up all night- er, day- to make sure you didn't have nightmares! Now get up and go get yourself dressed and ready for the day- er, night!" Carl stood up and scowled petulantly down at Van Helsing, arms akimbo.
Of course, his tone of voice and stance somehow reminded Van Helsing of a scowling grandmother, and so he promptly burst out into a gale of laughter. This didn't amuse Carl, who crossed his arms and shouted something about it not being that funny as the color rose in his face. Van Helsing only laughed harder, rolling back and forth on the bed, hardly able to breathe from a mixture of pain and laughter. Soon tears were rolling down his cheeks because of both, and he didn't pause to wipe them away. On impulse, Carl reached out to do that for him, an action that finally silenced the guffawing Gabriel.
"Did you really stay up the whole time I was sleeping, making sure I wasn't having nightmares?" He asked quietly as Carl sat down again.
"What makes you think you're that important to me?" He asked airily, sitting back down and re-crossing his arms. It was partially true. He hadn't been staying up so much for Gabriel's sake as for his own. He needed that closeness. But what could he say to his friend without giving himself away...? "Of course I did." Carl said after another moment. For once, he was the enigma; try as he might, Van Helsing couldn't read the look in his eyes.
"Then you need your rest too." He said in the same soft tone, rising.
He had known that Carl had stayed up with him that whole day, since he had still been awake when he had been moved onto the Friar's small bed. He had offered no resistance because of the warmth that filled him once he was there; the cot bore it's owner's scent, a scent that the Hunter wrapped himself in like the thickest of cloaks. It reminded him of books and knowledge, laughter and, oddly, unshed tears. He sensed it especially now, the unspoken longing sulking about in those four walls. It had struck him sharply when he felt his hand being lifted to touch Carl's face, and while he sensed it he was unsure of what should be done about it. He also felt passion, waves of passion, rolling off of his friend. But those were always there. Carl did everything in his life with passion and spunk. He would bravely stand up to those that confronted him... even if he was secretly peeing his pants.
"No, really Van Helsing." Carl stuttered, but he couldn't resist being pulled to his feet by his friend and guided to the bed. He even allowed him to arrange the blankets around him and fluff up the pillow once more.
"Go ahead then. Sleep!" Van Helsing waved his hands at Carl, settling down on the chair he had just vacated.
"Well I can't do it with you watching!" Carl mumbled, even though his eyes were slipping closed. Actually, it was a lot easier to sleep knowing that he was there, watching over him like a guardian angel. Or a guardian archangel... hmm, my Gabriel...
"Too bad! You need to get better quickly. I'm not spending my entire break nursing you!" The Hunter's deep and throaty chuckle was the last thing Carl heard before he drifted off, and remained with him even there.
"Van Helsing!"
Gabriel, startled, jumped off the chair and spun to face the door. That wasn't Carl's voice he heard; it was deep and heavily accented.
"Cardinal Jinette." He grumbled, waiting for his boss to enter. It wasn't that he disliked the man, since he was the closest thing he had known to a father, but he didn't want to be interrupted in his Friar-watching. Carl had been sleeping quite peacefully for some time now, at which time he was the best to watch, he didn't want to leave.
"There you are." The Cardinal said as he entered without knocking. "I know I promised you a break, but God thinks otherwise. You are needed in Greece... a small coastal town on the main peninsula is being tormented by harpies."
"The bird?"
"No. They're creatures with the head and torso of a woman but the wings, tails and talons of a bird. For a while they were just teasing and terrorizing, but now they've even begun to kill." Jinette said, perhaps a little more loudly than he should've. Van Helsing made a violent gesture for silence.
"Carl is sleeping." He hissed.
"Then I'll have to tell him good-bye for you when he awakes to find you gone. You're leaving at once. All you should need is your pistols and crossbow, they have no special way of being killed. We'd rather you not kill them, but I don't see how you could bring one back so I'll understand if you can't. And for God's sake man, put a shirt on." He scolded slightly. The Hunter sighed and combed his hair back with one hand, a gesture that softened the Cardinal. He lay a gentle hand on Van Helsing's shoulder. "I'm sorry." He said before leaving the room.
Van Helsing turned back to Carl's side and bent over him; the Friar wriggled a little under the covers, but said nothing. He sighed once more and reached out, wanting to brush some loose strands of hair back from his clammy forehead... but stayed his hand a bare inch from its destination. He clenched it into a fist and returned it to his side. Putting his coat back on and ducking his head, he left the room.
Not much time after that he was dressed and in a coach bound for Pescara, a city on the coast of Italy that bordered the Adriatic Sea. From there he would board the first ship heading to Greece. He estimated the journey would take at least a couple weeks, since the coach had to firstly negotiate some mountains before they got to Pescara then the ship would have to sail the Adriatic, through the Strait of Otranto and into the Ionian Sea, around another large island, and then up to a small town on the coast near Athens. Thankfully, he was used to long travel.
But as he looked at the window, all he could see was Carl's sleeping face...
----
You don't remember me
But I remember you
I lie awake and try so hard
Not to think of you
----
Carl tossed and turned fitfully. Something was wrong, deathly wrong. He was alone...
No, wait, Van Helsing was there. He was in the courtyard of the Vatican, just coming home. He looked tired. Carl descended from his hiding place, but this time, instead of scurrying back to his lab and acting like nothing had happened, he met Van Helsing in the confessional...
There were no words spoken, just knowing glances as he opened the grate that separated them. Carl took both Van Helsing's hands in his own, turning them over and checking for injuries. When there were none, he looked up he saw a tear in the Hunter's shirt. Without hesitation his hand slid inside, caressing the warm muscle he found there lightly. There was a sharp intake of breath- he could not tell if it was his or Van Helsing's- but he didn't stop. He slid both coat and shirt off of the man's shoulder and saw a bloodied wound blossoming there. Carl bent and kissed it softly, and it slowly disappeared. Without replacing the shirt and coat, he allowed Van Helsing to cup his face in his hands and bend down, planting a hard and heated kiss on his lips....
In both his dream and in reality, Carl moaned and not from pain. Part of him was whispering that this was a house of God and anyone could see this mortal sin, but the other part of him was screaming its need for more.
Van Helsing reached across the confessional, slid his hand inside the Friar's robes. They fell away easily in the dream-world, leaving his chest open to butterfly kisses and roaming hands. Then, clear as day, Carl could hear him whispering promises in his ear, promises of love and passion...
Carl sat bolt upright in his bed, then fell back down with a cry of pain when it lanced through his still-healing injuries. His heart was pounding and sweat still decorated his body. He sat up slowly this time, combing his fingers through his hair. The blankets were all over his bed; had he been thrashing? What would Van Helsing think...?
It was then he noticed that his friend was gone. The chair beside his bed was cold and empty.
"Where did he go?" He whispered to himself, climbing out of bed. There was no note, no nothing. He wanted the dream to rush back then. He wanted to be in Gabriel's arms again...
His whole body began to tremble. What was he doing to himself? What was he thinking? God frowned on the coupling of a man and a woman but allowed it to pass, but what would he say of two men? The Friar knew all too well. So he fumbled for his crucifix and knelt on the chair Van Helsing had left behind, bathing himself in the fading moonlight and beginning to pray.
He would spend the next two weeks in prayer, from dawn till dusk, only eating and sleeping when he collapsed. But at the same time he would be cursing himself for a hypocrite. He was only kneeling on the chair because he knew that Van Helsing had been there many a time...
----
But who can decide
What they dream?
And dream I do...
----
Van Helsing had not anticipated a happy voyage across the Adriatic. It was a place he would forever associate with Anna now, the thing she had wanted to see the most but had never lain eyes on. Perhaps from Heaven she had seen it with her family... but, with a jealous surge, Van Helsing could not help but wish she had seen it beside him.
What puzzled him about that thought, which struck him as he lay below deck on the ship bound for Greece, was that it didn't hurt as much as it usually did. Usually, he couldn't even make his tongue say the word 'Anna.' But now it came easily, smoothly, like it was nothing but the white scar left behind by a painful wound. Even more puzzling was his next train of thought... Carl.
He rolled onto his other side so that he faced the wall and the empty bed beside him. But Van Helsing swore he could see Carl lying sleeping beside him. Not knowing what he was doing, he stretched his arm out lazily to wrap it around the Friar's waist and pull him closer... but nothing was there.
Van Helsing rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed, his brow furrowed in thought. Why did it hurt so much that nothing had been there? What did he expect? Carl had been too sick to come along. He forced himself to lay back down, a deep cough shaking him. He was beginning to get a cold from his night out in the rain fighting vampires.
I'm already sick. He thought bitterly. Without Carl beside me, I have nothing worth fighting for.
----
I believe in you
I'll give up everything just to find you
I have to be with you
To live, to breathe
You're taking over me...
----
After those weeks of prayer, Carl realized what he was doing to himself.
"I can't let you do this, Gabriel." He said to the air around him. "No matter how I feel for you, I can't let you destroy me." He had a cold from the fight with the vampires, but felt well enough to work.
Besides, his cold was nothing to the sickness in his spirit. How could he have such dreams? They say that dreams show us what we are, what we wish to become, or what we fear the most in ourselves, but this was an odd combination of all those three. He did have... strange feelings for Gabriel. He did sometimes wish... that the Hunter would come home and wrap him in a warm, hard embrace and wipe away all his tears. He did fear... that this might destroy his chance for salvation.
"Well, if it was anything like the dream it wouldn't be all that horrible of a demise if it would be anything like the dream." Carl almost shattered some more beakers with the jolt that ripped through him. "Did I just say that out loud?" He said a little louder than he should've.
"I didn't hear anything." Father Johnson, the monk at the forge, said.
That really doesn't surprise me. Carl thought dryly to himself, looking at the roaring fire in front of the genial monk.
"Are you sure you're alright? Are you sure you shouldn't be in bed?" He pressed, looking concerned.
"No, but thank you for your concern, Father." He said sincerely, turning back to his beloved workstation.
But the stainless steel seemed just that... steel. Cold, hard, and unfeeling. So unlike Van Helsing. His body had been warm and deceptively soft when Carl had half embraced him the previous day to get him into bed. With effort, he shook the memory from his mind and shuffled some notes, rearranging some chemicals that had been placed out of order. He used to be able to bury himself here when he was worrying about Gabriel, but now all he could do was stare stupidly at it. He tried to work, but couldn't. God Van Helsing, have you reached me even here? My last refuge? The place you always leave me at? The whole world is your plaything, your workplace. But you always leave me here, in this little hole. I guess it's befitting someone of so little importance as me...
That's not true! Squealed another part of him. You saw him worry over you yesterday, lead you to your bed. You remember the feel his hands binding your injured one...
"That's what frightens me." Carl whispered, staring at his still bandaged hand. He ran it across his face, felt a ghost of stubble coming through. "That's what I'll do. I'll shave. I need to do something." With that, he up and left his workstation. He had to forget, just like Van Helsing had so easily forgot him and left for Greece.
----
Have you forgotten all I know
And all we had?
You saw me mourning my love for you
And touched my hand
----
The wind rippled over the deck of the ship as it cut through the waters of the Adriatic, catching Van Helsing's hair and coat in its salt-riddled embrace. He had long since removed his hat because of it, but kept his kerchief up over his face to keep him from being easily recognized. With every foot of water they skipped lightly over, they drew closer to port.
"And farther from Carl..." He snapped his mouth shut there and glanced quickly around himself. Thankfully, the other passengers were far enough away to not have heard him. Staring at the water, he tried to force the Friar from his mind, he was succeeding until water suddenly splashed him in the face.
"What the hell?" Van Helsing cried, jumping backwards, his hand reaching for his pistol.
But it dropped to his side with a thin laugh as he realized it had just been a dolphin, leaping out of the water. Looking over the railing, he watched it riding the wake of the boat. But they were slowing and curving inland; in less than an hour, they'd dock. The dolphin remained a few minutes more, then leaped up again as though in salute. Van Helsing got one clear look of it before it disappeared into the ocean once more. One image was left with him from that encounter; one of expressive, light blue eyes.
"I must be losing my mind... seeing Carl's eyes on a dolphin..." He muttered to himself, heading below deck. It was still hot here, but he'd need to fetch his coat to hide all his weapons under. He was already going to have more demonic women throwing themselves at them, he didn't want to add 'local authorities' to the list.
Dusk was growing as the Hunter disembarked quietly. Very few people were out on the streets, and what ones that were watched the sky carefully. It wasn't surprising to Van Helsing, who walked cautiously down the empty lanes and listened to the quiet sounds of night all around him. He kept one hand always discreetly on a pistol and the other not far from his crossbow as he placed his hat on his head and tipped it low. An earlier mission in Greece, involving a Minotaur, had earned him unsavory fame.
He had a hard time deciding what was more unsavory, though: being wanted dead in all of Europe, or the taste of the ground he was suddenly knocked onto. Bile did nothing to improve the flavor as the same claws that had sent him careening dug into his already shredded back. He bit his lip against a scream as he rolled to one side to fire at the harpy trying to lift him up. Fortunately, she was not half as strong as a vampire and was failing miserably. Gabriel wasn't more than three feet off the ground when he aimed his pistol and shot her in the head, killing her instantly. She fell to the ground near him, but only Van Helsing rolled to absorb the shock and build enough momentum to stand. It was a position that made him vulnerable to the attack of the four other harpies diving down towards him.
The Monster Hunter let go then, let all his molten rage and hurt and confusion pour into the bullets he fired. He aimed and fired without question or thought, mercilessly taking down two of his winged enemies before they were close enough to strike. A third he hit in the wing; she fell onto a nearby rooftop and rolled off, hitting the street with a less-than-happy hiss. He aimed and tried to kill her too, but was swept off his feet with the attack of the fourth. She was much smarter than the first harpy had been. She knew she could not lift him up. But instead she rammed into his ribs and drew one clawed hand hard across his chest, tearing the fabric of his vest and shirt and jerking the crucifix he wore off in the process. But it didn't faze him; he hit the ground shooting once more, catching her on the foot and then standing up to shoot the already injured one in the chest.
Now all that was left was the fourth. She landed on a nearby streetlamp, balancing on one foot and screeching at him. She might've been pretty as a human; she had raven hair and a sleek, toned body. Her wings were like a raven's too, but her face was twisted with animalistic rage and pain.
How alike you and I are, you will never know. Gabriel thought to himself. He cocked the pistol once more and aimed for her heart, but found himself somehow reluctant to fire. Will this bullet save you? Will it take away your pain? It will only be sending you to Hell, as your claws tearing out my heart would send me to Hell for the way I've been thinkin about Carl...
It was useless to deny it anymore. They had become close friends since Transylvania. And on his way to Greece, when he wasn't plagued by nightmares of his past... he would dream of the Friar. Just simple things, like walking together, kissing each other, laughing together, hugging... He felt warm just remembering them, but a little scared. Was the Left Hand of God supposed to feel like this...?
There was no more time for thought as the harpy made her final stand, lunging at him with frightening speed.
----
I knew I loved you then...
----
Even though he knew everything must be screaming by for the bystanders gathering around, time grew very sluggish for Van Helsing. He pulled the trigger as the harpy grew closer, so close that when her dead body began to fall it hit his. On instinct, he turned and threw her away from himself with a cry of rage. She hit a nearby streetlamp and fell lifeless to the ground, but he still wasn't sure she was dead. He was haunted by the glimpse of blue eyes he had gotten just before he had shot her- would he see Carl everywhere now?- and began to shake, firing one more time just to make sure that she was dead. But there were no bullets left and he let the pistol slip to the ground.
"It's the murderer!"
"It's Van Helsing!"
"Get him!"
He knew why the crowd pursued him; they were poor and needed the money his bounty would bring. They needed it so badly that they were fighting each other for the right to kill him. He heard their shouts and jeers but couldn't stop or defend himself, but he kept running. Carl would save him...
----
I believe in you
I'll give up everything just to find you
I have to be with you
To live, to breathe
You're taking over me...
----
Carl arrived at last at one of the washrooms in the Order's catacombs. The one time he ever handled a knife was when he shaved and he was leery about doing it when he was so weak, but really felt he had no choice. He needed something to do, and if he didn't shave he would look scraggly and defeated when Van Helsing returned.
Once, he had let some stubble overtake his face in the form of a goatee. But Van Helsing had acted very strangely upon seeing it, almost uneasy. Eventually he came out and said he didn't like it. It made him look too old.
"That's me." He laughed quietly to himself as he shaved. "Innocent little Carl." But while he was far from innocent, Van Helsing didn't keep a beard. And he still manages to look handsome...
Carl leapt back from the mirror, the knife clattering to the floor. For a second there, he had sworn he had seen Van Helsing reflected there, grinning happily at him. And he liked it, he realized as he felt a few beads of perspiration dripping over his body. He liked being haunted by the enigmatic Hunter...
"How can I be considered innocent when such thoughts as these possess me?" He asked the silence around him. Without knowing it, he fell to his knees and closed his eyes, hands folded in prayer.
What is happening to me...? God above... Kyrie eleison... Lord have mercy... Christe eleison.... Christ have mercy.... Gabriel.... Van Helsing, have mercy...
-----
I look in the mirror
And see your face
If I look deep enough
So many things inside that are just like you
Are taking over...
----
The townspeople gave up the hunt not long after it began, leaving Van Helsing to wander in search of a place he could secure a coach at all that night. He never found one, but as dawn's rays broached the sky he managed to buy a horse off a wealthy farmer and ride to Athens, where he bartered the horse for passage back to Pescara. Thankfully, it was the same ship he had arrived on, and the captain was friendly to the Order and gave him no trouble. That was all well and good, since he was tired and wanted nothing more than rest, but he would've been willing to fight his way home just as Odysseus had, as long as it meant he would get to see his beloved Friar.
Little did he know that thousands of miles away, someone was willing to sell his soul, which he already considered damned anyway, for the sight of his face. Even though he didn't know it, Carl was still there, waiting for him to come home. And maybe bothw ould find out upon that homecoming that they were not as damned as they thought. Something was waiting there for them both, something that would blur the lines between Heaven and Hell.
----
I believe in you
I'll give up everything just to find you
I have to be with you
To live, to breathe
You're taking over me...
----
A/N- Hmm... mixed feelings about that chappie. I'm not sure I pulled it off quite right. I did have fun using a map and picking actual cities and using the real name of oceans and seas and straits and crap!! But I'm not sure how well it came out. By the way, kyrie eleison and Christe eleison are real Latin. Thank God for the Hunchback of Notre Dame soundtrack, eh? LOL. Review, I hope you liked this chapter! Next chapter promises to be better!