Part: 1 of ?
Rating: PG
Summary: Carl and Van Helsing have a few adjustments to make as they head back to Rome. Picks up where the movie left off...well, no. Not precisely.
Author's Notes: My first VH fic was absolutely serious; this is a complete one-eighty. I have never, ever posted a WIP: my writing style precludes it (I rarely write a story start-to-finish, but rather assemble it like a jigsaw). So this is something of an experiment. If I get stuck (hopefully not), I'll pull it.
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It could have been worse, of course.
The day was moderately overcast, but at least the slight wind was at their backs. There was only a thin layer of frost; a single step readily revealed the yellowed grass and slippery soil beneath. The ground was relatively level here; it was fairly reasonable terrain to tramp upon even whilst carrying all their gear divided between them, though who knew how long it would stay that way.
What he wouldn't give for a nice warm stifling forge-hot laboratory or a musty decaying library, but really, the wilderness wasn't all that bad, when you had under-lit castles and vaguely hostile villages as your immediate alternatives.
Oh yes, it could have been much worse. 'So...you're sure no-one's following us?' he whispered after a few more minutes.
There was a slight pause, then Van Helsing muttered under his breath, 'I don't hear anything.' He stopped and lifted his head, sniffing the air...for what, exactly, Carl wasn't sure he wanted to know. 'Don't smell anything, either.'
'Good,' he said, at normal volume this time, and they resumed walking. He adjusted the strap over his right shoulder. The packs had been heavy to begin with, and they'd only gone a half dozen or so miles by this point and the supplies weren't getting any lighter. Too bad about the horses. He'd estimated an extra two or three days for the journey on foot, but the weight seemed to be pushing him into the muddy ground with every step and at this rate he'd be up to his knees by the time they reached the coast.
'The last thing we need,' he went on, 'is those villagers pulling out their pitchforks and flaming torches again on our account. Rather zealous, aren't they?'
'They've had a lot of practice,' Van Helsing said non-committally.
The unfamiliar pressure of the pistols wasn't made any better by the fact that the one on the left kept bumping into the bedroll and jamming itself repeatedly into his hip. He shifted uncomfortably. How in the world did anyone wear these all the time?
'So, um,' he said, mostly to break the monotony of the sound of their footsteps crunching through snow, 'did you have your, er, talk with her after all?'
'We talked.' Van Helsing broke pace momentarily to scratch with what might have been embarrassment behind his ear before he continued with his reply. 'Anna was all right with it, actually. We agreed it probably wouldn't have worked in the long run. She's a great girl, but...you know...'
Carl thought he caught something almost like a shrug out of the corner of his eye. 'Yes?'
'Well, she's lovely of course, but she's only got two...er...' He trailed off as he noticed Carl's look. 'A woman really needs a minimum of eight, I say.'
'A matter of taste, I'm sure,' Carl mumbled.
'Oh, of course. Mind you, she's got beautiful hair, but a bit more would've done wonders, too.'
There wasn't much to say to that, so Carl concentrated instead on tugging the holsters to a hopefully less tenderizing position. He wondered if he could have asked for the Tojo blades instead; they wouldn't have banged into things, at least not without some effort. But Van Helsing was still carrying those, and perhaps that was for the better. He'd likely slice off his own arms or something, and then who'd do the cooking around here?
'She gave a nice speech in the square,' he told Van Helsing. 'The people actually looked a little sorry to hear you'd sneaked off early.'
'Missed my own stoning, you mean?'
'No. She made you out to be quite the hero, in fact.'
Again with the almost-shrug.
'She said you just didn't want the attention and all that and preferred to slip away as silent as you came, et cetera. To be honest, the people didn't protest all that much.'
'I still think you didn't need to stay for that.'
'Just a bit of support for the fact that Dracula's truly finally dead. The presence of a man of the cloth can lend quite a lot of assurance, you know.'
'As opposed to the presence of a man of no cloth?'
'Van Helsing...'
'Sorry.'
They plodded on in silence for a while longer. All in all, this wasn't turning out to be the sort of adventure Carl had envisioned when he'd first been given - and rather rudely, in his opinion - this assignment. Were Van Helsing's missions generally like this?
He irritably stamped a clump of ice crystals off the side of his boot. 'Think it'll snow again before we get out of Transylvania?'
'Don't know. Does Jinette crap in the woods?'
Carl turned and shook his finger in front of Van Helsing's nose.
'That was awful,' he told the large black wolf. 'No biscuit for you.'