A/N-- YAY! Favorite chapter, favorite chapter la la la la la! dances Well, that and I GOT BOOTS!!!!!!! MY FIRST EVER PAIR OF BOOTS! dances in new pair of boots Double the usual M&M's to all my reviewers on this glorious day:
The Wishmasters- As usual, your well-worded review made me very happy and your story was an inspiration! Hope you enjoy this next installation! (Sorry, listening to musicals makes me rhyme all the time)
Papilio- Rereading your review, I feel sorry it took so long! curls up all guilty like in a corner But good things take time, yes?
Ragweed-.......ROFLMAO!!! Dude, stay up till four more often!! You're one funny chick!
If finding out Carl and Faramir are the same person, this should floor you: (hey, when i found out this juicy fact I nearly fell off the rafters of the cabin!!) David Wenham is also in Moulin Rouge. He plays Audrey, the bisexual writer with really shiny black hair from the beginning of the movie.
Anastasia Andretti-Van Helsing-....wow. That review was.... overwhelming...... But I loved it, and your name! Thanks!
kydasam- Wow, usually my writing doesn't make people cry... I'm gaining on my friend for that title of 'my-writing-makes-people-cry!' .....I dunno about the fluffles and snugglies.... I tried to put some in at the beginning for you, but they weren't really fluffy. I'm sorry...! And you'll see how it ends.
PineappleIce- You certainly are a funny one! And the image of Carl holding the crossbow was kinda supposed to be 'WOA! I better get outta the way!' and 'ROFLMAO!' at the same time. Thanks for your review!
Jess- DUDE!!! HE WAS AT THE COMIC CON?!?! OMG!!! I wish I could've gone.
Van Helsing spoiled it for me. I can't ever look at Faramir the same... Thanx for the review! I tried very hard to make sure the songs didn't overtake the writing. They were meant to be more accents.
Trinity Infinity- No worries! I've been sooo behind on my reviewing... but that's because of high school, which is a synonym for lots of homework and lack of inspiration. I am soo sorry! I will try and get over to your fic as soon as I can! Just don't be expecting me.
Yes, I thirteen. Turning fourteen on October 15th of this year! You're almost twice my age?! --shakes head-- I have such a hard time believing that. I dunno why... I just kinda thought everybody here were teenagers (I know that's somehow grammatically incorrect, just don't know how...) somehow... I tried to proof read a bit this time, hope it worked better. I just don't have the attention span to read my own writing... it's too long. Hence the reason I write in spurts.
How long does it take to write a chapter of that length? --thinks a moment-- well, that particular chapter took five days. The longest its ever taken me to write a chapter on this fic (and this fic holds my record for takes-the-longest-to-write. It's really a challenge and it takes so much out of me... I'm basically throwing all my emotions in there, which is exhausting) is this chapter, which took over a month. Four or five days is about the average for this fic, at a glance.
(second review)
In one sitting?! Chica, I could not read my own story in one sitting..... That makes me appreciate you all the more, though!! It was your review and kydasam's updates that really got me working on this again. Hopefully I will update more often now, and thanks for the boost!
Okay, actually, this is being written llllllllllllloooooooooonnnnnnnnnnggggggg after the day I got my boots..... once more, kydasam half guilt-tripped and half inspired me into finishing this. If you haven't already read em, her stories come highly recommended from me... Also, thanks to Trinity Infinity for giving me the nudge needed to get this rocking and rolling again.
This chapter's song is 'Slipped Away' by Avril Lavigne. Next chapter's song is 'Tourniquet' by Evanescence.
Chapter Ten:
Slipped Away
------
Na na
Na na na na na
------
His kisses were slow, soft, warm. Gabriel was kissing his chest then, in his slow, soft, warm way. There was something dreamlike about the wet touch; something so perfect about it that it couldn't be real. But who was Carl to complain? With a gentle mewl, he tangled his hands in Gabriel's soft, dark locks, tugging ever so slightly at it when the Hunter's mouth hit a sweet spot.
"Stop that!" Van Helsing chuckled, sitting up to bat Carl's hands away.
"I can't help it." Carl barely breathed out, his hands moving to clench reflexively on Van Helsing's shoulders.
"I don't need a massage, Carl." He continued to laugh, shaking the Friar's hands off again.
"You're too good at this." He moaned back, balling his hand and half-heartedly giving Van Helsing a pound on the back. The Hunter just laughed again- God, how he loved that sound.... -and bent, kissing Carl full on the lips.
Both their bodies knew without asking what they wanted. Their mouths opened at the same time, their tongues automatically going to the place they knew was the sweetness. It was all sweetness this night. All sweetness as Gabriel broke off the kiss and ran a line of kisses along the creamy skin of Carl's collarbone, licking the little hollow just under his throat. All sweetness as Carl wrapped himself around Van Helsing and buried his face in his hair, combing it out gently now. So sweet, the taste of the other man's skin as he kissed the tiny spot just behind his ear....
The air by the sea was chilly, nibbling inquisitively at the Friar's skin. Night would come soon, but a whisper of heat from the sun remained on his face. It's accompaniment was the breeze, whispering how it would soon be time to sleep. The first, brave stars were peeping out overhead.
He took off his shoes, walked barefoot across the deck of the ship. The floor felt rough and warm; it reminded him of Van Helsing's chin just before it had been shaved. He liked to rub his cheek against the faint stubble, laugh at the ticklishness of it. Reminders were abound here, that much was clear from the sad, far-off look in the Hunter's eyes. Carl hoped there were no other passengers on deck; after a perfunctory glance around that corroborated his hopes, he padded up to stand behind the Hunter, wrapping his arms around his waist and nestling his face on his back, in-between his shoulder blades. It was a nice, firm place. It made him feel safe, out here on the too-open sea.
"What are you thinking of?" Carl asked, though he knew the answer.
"Anna."
"Do you miss her?"
"Of course."
"Anything else?"
"You."
"Do you miss me?"
"Of course." Carl sighed, nuzzled his lover again, and closed his eyes.
Night was falling down on them, but now the light was irritating. So was Van Helsing, a little. Who was this man, that he could feel alone no mater how surrounded by people he was? It was true. No matter where he went, he would feel alone. He always tried to hide it, but there were times when Carl would still a quiet glance at the Hunter and see a not-so-secret longing written all over him. What he wouldn't give to fill that nameless hole in the other man's soul.
"Do you want to know something, Carl?" Van Helsing's voice continued, how much later he wasn't sure.
"I want to know lot's of things."
"Do you want to know what I'm thinking?"
"Yes. But that doesn't mean you'll get a penny, you beggar." Carl's laugh at what he thought was rather funny dwindled when he felt a deep sigh resonate through his human pillow. "Tell me, Gabriel."
"Sometimes.... I wonder which of us needs the other more."
They spent the rest of the night in silence. When Carl raised his sleepy self up onto his elbows to gaze down into Van Helsing's face, he could not read the man's thoughts, though he theorized they were dark; Gabriel had gone away for the night, apparently. But it was a passing thing. By morning, he was laughing again.
They created their own little world, though the one outside was all too happy to howl at them for it. No one should be able to have that kind of peace, that kind of power, it thought. But it was too busy screaming to see.... not everything was perfect in that little world apart from the Carpathian Mountains.
That little world was created against a blizzard ripping through, and created by nothing more than two thick coats wrapped tightly around the two men. Van Helsing had opened the front of his shirt to the waist and guided Carl's head there so that the Friar could soak in the warmth from his bare chest. Their heavy coats, one on top of the other, deadened the sounds and sensations of the outside world. Deadened. So fitting a word, he realized. The light in Gabriel's warm, chestnut eyes had been deadened too. Once more he had fallen into some deep, dark crevice within, one so tiny that even Carl could not wriggle his way in.
Van Helsing was acutely- painfully -aware of Carl's every need, every movement, and made sure he was tightly held and toasty warm. Somehow, Van Helsing's protectiveness frightened him. It took him a while to realize why; fear was radiating off his beloved. In two souls so closely allied, an infection like fear spreads quickly. Carl wanted to ask what was wrong, but never did. He nuzzled the warm skin beneath him, fluttered his eyelashes against the skin on Gabriel's neck, but got no answer for some time. That is, until Gabriel rested his head against the Friar's with a great, heaving sigh, one wet with tears. Carl held him back as tightly as he could when fear made him shake. Something was wrong.
Even then Gabriel Van Helsing had been dying.
Slowly, his eyes opened. Slowly, the memories faded. It was the long, slow letdown, the long, slow death. Actually, it was just a return to the present. But death and reality were synonymous then.
Carl sat up, his back stiff though he had not been sleeping. He didn't like sleep anymore. Beds were too cold, too hard. They didn't move with the gentle rhythm of breathing, the tempo of life. Besides, how could he sleep now?
He knew.
His heartbeat was slow and dull, but it was still a garish sound for the Friar as he stood from his chair, bypassed his books. His mind flirted lamely with the idea of doing more research, but the relationship didn't progress. Why bother, anyway? He knew.
He knew what had happened.
He knew there was no cure.
He knew that while he was forgotten.... he himself could never forget.
-----
I miss you
Miss you so bad
I don't forget you
Oh, it's so sad
-----
"Thomas was right." Carl said to himself, his voice cracking slightly. Normally, he would've been hopping mad at the thought of one of his aides beating him to a realization, but it didn't matter now. What mattered was that he knew.
Knowledge is so terrible a thing.
It had been a spell, a memory spell. So Carl had been partially right in thinking it was amnesia, but not quite there. Here was where magic came in; you see, amnesia normally does not kill. But this one would. Likely it had been cast at point blank, otherwise it would not have sent Gabriel into a coma; he would've been able to stumble back to Carl and tell him what had happened. Carl would've rushed him back to Rome, assuring him that they would find the cure. But they would be rushing to the Vatican only to see that there was no cure. So the manuscript had said, in ominous tones.
All manuscripts say that. He started to reason. It makes them sound scarier. That had been Carl's first thought when Matthias had brought the ancient parchment to him, but it had been swiftly crushed. He was too tired, too weak, to hope.
It had started with Van Helsing's memories of people and places; hence the reason he had recognized Carl for only a few seconds. His body was still struggling against it, and losing the battle. Next, the spell would move onto his muscle memory. He would forget how to walk, how to speak, and eventually how to move his body altogether.
It would cause his skin and bones to forget how to heal; even the tiniest cut could turn fatal, and he had already been wounded. He would forget how to regulate his body temperature, going from burning hot to icy cold. He would forget how to digest his food. But none of this would kill him, it would be done so skillfully that it left him with just one memory: what it was to beg for death. There was only one course the spell could take. Slowly, but unstoppably, he would forget the most basic instinct of all creatures. He would forget how to breathe.
And Carl knew.
Even if Van Helsing did remember him, at the last, he would be physically unable to say anything to attest to this. It was strange, how clinical Carl's thoughts had become on the matter. When he had first found out, he had flown into a flurry of emotions more numerous than snowflakes. He had railed against it, gone through what seemed like every book and scroll they had. Nothing. And in accompaniment to that wrenching note, all his emotions went away. He became nothing too.
Carl wasn't sure how long ago that had been. He had drifted around the catacombs, gone once to Van Helsing's side to see how far along it was. His eyes had tracked him when he moved around the room; he had shivered slightly when Carl had ghosted his lips over his feverish cheek. The fever, and the sudden chill afterwards, signaled it all.
Carl knew it.
He felt it.
It would be today.
The day he would remember for the rest of his life. The day his life would end.
"Did you know that, Gabriel?" He said softly to the air. "We're going to die today."
----
I hope you can hear me
I remember it clearly
-----
"Brother Carl?" Came the voice from the door. It was solid, but timid. Carl made note of that. Matthias was timid this day. He would remember it anyway, even without noting it. He would remember everything about this day.
"Yes?" Carl asked, turning in his chair.
"Would you like Thomas and I to get you some more books? Take some back? Anything?" He finished desperately. Desperate and timid. Like the world.
"No. You don't need to do anything today, neither you or Thomas. Actually, just one thing." Carl amended quickly, standing with similar speed. "Both of you. Go out into the city today. Find someone to love, and love them with all your hearts. Ignore the consequences. Just love this day, love that person, embrace them both. Because after today.... nothing will be the same."
----
The day
You slipped away
Was the day
I found it won't be the same
Oh
----
Matthias disappeared. Carl didn't stop to think on whether or not he would follow his strange orders; it didn't matter so much. Something was tugging on his heartstrings, anxious as an impatient little child. He followed the tugging, in the slow way the day demanded. Everything seemed slow, everything needed to be slow. How else could one take in all that was happening, all that was changing, all that was being lost?
The little child tugging at his heartstrings, begging for comfort, led him through crowds of people. He registered each time he brushed against them, made sure to make eye contact with as many as he could. Did they all feel it too? Some did, some didn't. He didn't enlighten them. The dark is easier to handle until you know there's light. For him, the pain was that there had once been light, and now it was gone. He was in the long, slow fading of the light, the slipping away of day into night. Perhaps the others felt it too, felt it and weren't perturbed because they thought the light would come again. They didn't know what Carl knew. They didn't know that the light was slipping away forever.
-----
Na na
Na na na na na
-----
His heartstrings nearly snapped with the strain, so hard were they pulled, as Carl reached the door to Van Helsing's room. No one was swarming around it anymore; yesterday they had realized that hope was gone, and the vacuum it left had sucked them away from the place. It was silent now, so still and silent. Slowly, Carl approached the door. He couldn't count- no one could -how many times his heart had led him here since he had found out. It hurt too much to go in, and hurt too much to be locked outside. Only once he had been able to enter, and only once had he forced himself to leave. With all his heart he wanted to be there when Gabriel finally slipped away, and with all his heart he couldn't bear the thought of watching him grow still.
He opened the door.
The air was thick and in want of circulation, so he left it ajar. The scent of blood, faint and acrid, lingered all around, hovering as though in wait for something. The scent of death was there too, that deceptively sweet odor that cloyed Carl and made him feel sick. It too was waiting.
Van Helsing was lying on his back, his head lolled to one side. His chest still moved in the faintest imitation of breathing, as was easy to see. The Hunter's shirt had been opened, since his clothes had been too heavy for him to lift along with his chest. For a brief moment, Carl imagined walking over to him, laying his head down upon that chest and closing his eyes. Letting the world boil down to that simple, steady beat. Letting everything fall away when it stopped. Dying beside the man he loved.
There was the briefest flash, the image of Van Helsing sitting up and seeing Carl lying there, running his strong, callused fingers through the Friar's hair and teasing him about his melodrama. Then he could hear himself growing angry and getting ready to shout at Van Helsing for scaring him, and feel Gabriel's laugh rumbling through his chest, his lips pressing themselves to Carl's and his hands pressing their bodies close together. Oh, how he could feel still, a dreadful reminder that they were both still alive, alive and waiting for the end..... the waiting was the worst part.
Carl leaned over Van Helsing's bedside, settling for just watching him breathe. As much as he wanted to, he didn't need to rest his head on the other man's chest. The rhythm of his heart was one inherently understood by Carl, because it was also the rhythm of his own. At all times of day and night, he could feel it resonating through his body, strong and omnipresent. It was fading now. They both were fading.
He watched as two chestnut eyes cracked open into the smallest of slits, then forced themselves open wider. Even when dulled by sleep, Gabriel's eyes were so familiar, so liquid, so warm, so achingly beautiful. The Hunter's lips twitched limply in something that might've been a smile as he reached up to rest the very tips of his fingers on the Friar's cheek.
"Blue eyes...." He whispered, frowning slightly. "I've seen you somewhere before.... Do you work here?" His eyes brightened in realization.
"I practically live here." Carl said, unable to keep the savage hollowness out of his voice.
"Oh..." The man's- for he was a stranger now -face fell a little. "That's a shame. This isn't a good place to live."
"No. It isn't." Carl replied.
"Well, could you perhaps get me a glass of water?" He asked faintly.
"I could get you the world if you asked for it." He whispered back with more emotion than should've been possible in his voice. The man's lips formed at last something recognizable as a smile, one that set a veneer of warmth over his otherwise glassy chestnut eyes, so familiar yet so alien.
"That's rather nice of you to say to someone you don't even know." He returned. Carl smiled weakly in return and backed out of the room.
Once in the hall, he was running. Tears slashed down his cheeks in wet, biting ribbons. Gabriel didn't know who he was. A stranger was in the bed in that room.
He sprinted into the library, looking for solace among the quiet, unassuming tomes. A thought of how he meant to go there to say good-bye to his lover flittered through. He had never gotten the chance, he had been so paralyzed with anguish. And he knew, right then, that he could never go back into that room.
----
I didn't get around to kiss you
Good-bye on the hand
I wish that I could
See you again
I know that I can't
-----
Then a slow, burning sensation filled Carl, a sensation he associated absently with anger. Not just anger, fury. He was furious about something, though he felt detached from the emotion. He was furious at- himself? At himself for giving up? Without even knowing what he was doing, he tore through the books, throwing the unhelpful ones aside with abandoned. Caution was thrown to the wind and clumsily caught. Carl didn't notice. Hope had returned, a candle guttering desperately in wake of the coming dark. Who had he been to give up? But as he thought that, he realized that he WAS giving up a little of the candle with every passing second. Time was running out.
His hands felt the full effect of that furious hope, nearly ripping pages as they turned them. Carl didn't register anything unless it was a lead, the hope so blinded him. When he heard the sound of his own heart, beating so hard and fast, he thought that surely the hope would kill him. It stopped abruptly when he at last found the right page.
It was fluttered innocently enough as it fell to the ground, but he knew it was a tricky one. Either that or his aides were stupid. It had become hideously creased and scrunched into the pages of the book where they had found the information about the spell; in fact, it was stuck in-between that page and the one after it. Some vigorous shaking from Carl had it loose.
His hands were oddly still, his movements methodical, as he read it. The candle of hope held very still and the world held its breath. There was a cure.
There was a cure.
Never mind that it was a spell too, never mind that God would most likely condemn him to Hell if he went through with this. If Gabriel died, Carl would likely kill himself anyway. Damned if he did and damned if he didn't.
Various cause and effect relationships played through his head, drawing him out of the known world and into that of the arcane. As he slipped away, he began to wonder what exactly the consequences of this working would be.
It was exactly an hour later when Carl awoke. The world was sharp and angular to his eyes. Everything was in biting contrast to the next thing; the cold floor, the blood dribbling down his chin, the soft light, the harsh angles of the room and the symbol he had drawn beneath him. The surging hope he had felt before, and the overwhelming uncertainty he felt now.
Had it worked?
Carl left everything as it had been, the Church be damned. They could wet their priestly robes with fear when they saw the room and he wouldn't care. He had just used magick to save the man he loved. He had just about excommunicated himself. If that was already done, what did he need them for?
He raced down the halls, towards Gabriel's room. His heart beat out the cadence of war, war against the God who had imposed death on the race of humans, who had made his Hunter suffer so much. He shoved everyone and anyone who got in his way out of it. Let them all be damned too. Everyone but he and Gabriel.
Two church guards stood outside the door to his lover's room. Carl grew suddenly afraid, suddenly cautious. He was suddenly terrified to see what he had wrought.
"You can't go in." One said as Carl approached the door again, the door that he had sworn he would not enter.
He backed off only slightly, held in stasis between two overwhelming urges: the urge to enter and fling his arms around the man he loved, his angel, and the urge to get as far away as possible before Fate came rushing back to him and stole Gabriel away again. With nothing else to do but stand there and feel his soul, even the very fabric of the world, tear apart, he turned to the guard.
Poor fool. He thought to himself. Innocence is bliss. He does not know what has happened here, what will happen here. He doesn't feel. None of them do. I had not felt up until this moment. We are none of us really alive until we've come to terms with death.
I almost wish I were numb again.
"And why not? Have we already given up hope? Is he...?" Carl let the dreadful sentence hang.
"He's gone mad. We're under the Cardinal's orders not to let anyone in or out, for their own safety." The guard continued in a monotone. How Carl envied him for that voice, that ability to keep scarring emotions at bay.
"He's gone mad, you say?" He said in a voice that was the faintest, most trembling inch from calm. The guards shifted uneasily, their spears lowering and crossing in front of the door.
"Yes." The second one responded slowly.
"Well so have I." Carl smiled, seizing a spear in each hand and slamming them backwards into the faces of their owners.
The first guard recovered more quickly, taking the blow and stepping back with it, giving him the room to twirl his spear around and slam Carl in the ribs with its butt end. The Friar choked on his breath and stumbled forward onto his knees, bile rising in his throat. A new pair of guards, having been on their way to relieve the other two, rushed over. One ran over to the guard Carl had left in a daze on the floor, while the other approached Carl himself.
"Are you alright, Brother?" He asked softly. Carl's head lolled back so that he could look at the guard and his companion better.
"Two? Why just two?" Carl asked feebly. "My Gabriel deserves more..."
"He's gone unconscious, Brother." One guard said slowly, as though speaking to a child. "God has come to take his angel back."
Carl shuddered once, a shudder that blanketed his body and found its way into a shake, a shake that turned into something bordering on convulsions. The feelings, the emotions, were leaving him, a nauseating withdrawal. The numbness returned as he pulled himself to his feet and started to pace before the door.
"If he awakens, you must let me in there." The Friar said warningly. "I must help him."
"If you believe that you can." The guard said kindly, almost condescendingly.
The word struck him then.... believe. To believe something implied that you weren't sure about it. Carl wasn't all that sure, now that he was cold and calculating again, that he believed in anything anymore.
That is, until he heard Gabriel's scream.
-----
I've had my wake up
Won't you wake up?
I keep asking why
And I can't take it,
It wasn't fake, it
Happened you passed by
----
Hell couldn't have stopped Carl from opening those doors. Maybe the guards knew it, because they didn't try to either. Even the basic laws of physics seemed to stand down from him; he was at Van Helsing's side faster than should've been physically possible. The Vatican's- and Carl's -Hunter was sitting up in bed, the look of a caged animal on his face as his eyes swept the room, trying to find the source of some fleeing nightmare.
No, it wasn't the look of a cornered animal in his eyes. It was the look of a frightened child, searching for something it knew it had lost. Whether Gabriel knew it or not, Carl knew what he was looking for: him.
"I'm here." Carl crooned, sitting on the edge of the bed and winding his arms around Gabriel, leaning up and tilting his head to one side to plant the softest of kisses on the very edge of the Hunter's mouth.
He stiffened at first, but then relaxed, drawing Carl forward to sit on his lap. Carl leaned his head backwards against the other's shoulder, turning his face down to lock their lips in a soft and comforting kiss. Van Helsing made a soft sound in his throat, a murmur of relief and sadness, his hands roaming down the Friar's body. He still remembered every ticklish spot, every pressure point, and every nook that gave his smaller lover pleasure, Carl noted, as he made use of every one. But after a moment, they broke off, and the Friar went to kneel at the edge of Van Helsing's bed.
"I'm here." He whispered again, reverently. The other man slid down on the sheets to lie flat. Carl took his hand and kissed the palm softly, before settling just to watch him. Gabriel seemed to nod for a moment, but it was a slow and confused one. Ice filled the pit of Carl's stomach. Please don't forget...
"Wh-who are you again?" He asked faintly, his voice breaking at the end. Carl staggered back and away from the man he loved, tears biting into his blue eyes.
"It's me." He choked out. "Me."
"I.... want... to.... remember..... you." Every word was an effort for Gabriel, that was plain to see. His hand reached out for Carl, his eyes hurt and pleading. The Friar began to step forward; was that recognition he saw in those eyes? No. He got closer, all he saw was confusion. "But I don't know who you are...."
"Yes! Yes you do!" Carl cried desperately, falling to his knees a foot away from the bedside. But he couldn't bring himself to close that foot. He couldn't stand looking in those lost, pleading eyes. His Gabriel was gone. There was nothing left of his world. "Prove me wrong, Gabriel! Prove me wrong! Please!"
Carl leapt to his feet the second Van Helsing reached out for him and backed up until he hit a wall. Van Helsing's hand was still extended towards him, but he couldn't get near to it. That was a stranger reaching out to him. A stranger reaching out, craven for comfort. Comfort that Carl could give to no one but his Gabriel.
He had one last look at Van Helsing before he fled the room. The last thing he saw was the terrible sorrow washing over the Hunter as he sank away from the world, lost forever to him.
And there was nothing Carl could do.
The cure had failed.
-----
Now you're gone, now you're gone
There you go, there you go
Somewhere, I can't bring you back
----
Who was that man that had fled? That was all Van Helsing wanted to know. He felt that he should know him, and it was bad that he didn't. It was very bad. That man had come to him every night in his dreams, comforted him, tried to help him. He had... come to love him. There was nothing wrong with that, right? There was nothing wrong with loving someone, true? He needed that especially now. But there was nothing he could do about it.
"Come back..." He called feebly. But the man- he was a monk, correct? -did not hear.
Then he knew that he was truly alone.
-----
Now you're gone, now you're gone
There you go, there you go
Somewhere, you're not coming back
-----
When Van Helsing awoke, it was late. The air was frigid and too close about him, so close it was invasive; was he still in that godforsaken cave? Why had Carl not come to get him yet?
"Please don't stay angry with me." He murmured without thinking and without opening his eyes. "You can't." He remained still a few moments after these words, which seemed magic at the time, but no Carl came. Well, Carls or no Carls, this Gabriel would have to pull himself to his feet and get on with life... whatever was left of it.
He was met with heart-stopping shock when he realized that the 'world' was not a cave in Transylvania, but a room in the medicinal wing of the Order.
By sheer force of will, he kept himself calm. There had to be a reason he was there. He couldn't have just... appeared back here for no reason. And if that had happened, Carl would've been the first on the scene and the last to leave. Why, he'd still be here now, his books making mountains around him and his head buried in them, trying to figure out what had happened.
But Carl was not here. Without him to answer it, the question fell to Van Helsing: how did I get here?
The question quickly became unanswerable. Any foray into his memories brought up instant walls, the kind of walls he had always found surrounding the deepest, darkest parts of his memories, the ones of the past. But these were not as all-encompassing. It was just like there was a dark blot, a fuzzy patch, on his memories surround the recent events in his life. Had he been dreaming?
The last thing he remembered was fighting and killing the vampires. Then everything was blank... Suddenly, finding out how he had got there wasn't so important.
Where was Carl?
At the thought of that name, memories hit him in whirling flashes: disorganized, chaotic images. A boat. A tear. A flash of light. Murmured voices, rising every so often in withheld passion. A scream. Was it his or Carl's? It didn't matter now that they were at the height of their passion. They were as one, they were both crying out.
And then another memory came, slow and clear as the moonrise. It was Carl sitting at his bedside, weeping, pleading with him to come back. Van Helsing wanted to cry out at the injustice of the scene. No one as pure as Carl- for he was pure and innocent, for all his hints of naughtiness -should have to beg like that. The world should be handed to him on a silver platter.
This last memory changed now, into something that was more like a vision. Here he felt more like a bystander, standing by in Carl's room. The Friar was running around, knocking things over, flinging things out his window, and stuffing others in a pack roughly. A knife flashed in the meager light, disappeared into Carl's robes. A stream of half-hearted curses left his lips as he tried to wipe his eyes dry, slamming the pack onto his back and storming out of the room. And, eventually, out of the Vatican.
It hit Gabriel then. Carl was gone.
------
The day
You slipped away
Was the day
I found it won't be the same
No
-------
"I heard he was awake..."
"But why did Carl leave the room? He would've stayed...""I don't know. You've known him longest, Thomas..."
"You were with him last, Matthias..."
Van Helsing's heart pounded in trepidation. Weren't those the names of Carl's aides? They had to know what was going on. They had to be able to lie to him about it. There were a few more moments of whispered argument, which he could not hear above his pulse, and then one of the aides entered.
"S-so you are awake?" He managed to eek out.
"Carl. Where is he?" Gabriel demanded harshly, leaping to his feet and seizing the aide by the arm.
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Na na
Na na na na na
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"He's gone, Mr. Van Helsing. We don't know where he went." The aide's words were lost on him.
Gabriel stood, looked out the window. He said nothing, and felt less. The very thing he had been fighting for was gone.
"Carl..."
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I miss you
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A/N-- Aren't yall just wishing Gabriel woulda listened to Anna's ghost? Wow.
That was like a marathon. Excruciating and baad. (sorry, I'm a sprinter, not a long distance runner) I'm not sure that the song worked.... I love it and all, but in the end I don't think it fit. The next chapter should be better. This one was just kind of an in-betweener, with little dialogue or action. The next chapter will have lots of action... or it should. I just can't trust my muses or my abilities lately.... well, enough excuses and complaining. I'll let you review and tell me what you think.... but be gentle about it..?