Disclaimer: I own nothing. Notes in Part 0 Among the Living: A Measure of Guilt 2/4 ----------------------------------------
Van Helsing took deep, deliberate breaths. His heart pounded in his ears, his eyes stung, his head ached. Despite the chill, sweat covered him. He wanted so badly to tell Carl how he felt like he was trapped inside someone else's body, how he still felt the touch of evil inside him like a ghost, how he was sometimes mesmerized by the moon. He wanted to tell him all these things more than he'd wanted anything for a long time, but he was too terrified of what Carl might say. Or what Carl might think, and not say. No one had ever stood by him the way Carl had. At least no one Van Helsing could remember. Carl had seen him at his worst and still he was there, steadfast in loyalty, always. . . there. He was so grateful for that friendship that nothing in the world meant more to him. But if Carl knew the dreams Van Helsing had, the feelings, the things the wolf sparked within him. . . . He could almost believe that nothing between them would change. Carl wouldn't judge him, he was too good for that. After all, Carl hadn't told Rome the full story after Van Helsing killed the werewolf that had possessed Velkan Valerious. He'd conveniently left out the part about how their most-prized Knight of the Holy Order would be sprouting a snout and fur come the next full moon. Carl had *lied* by omission for Van Helsing's sake. But they had a job to do, and Anna claimed there was a cure. This was different. The werewolf was gone, this was just Van Helsing, the man. What if the way he felt, the thoughts that gripped him, weren't things that could be fixed with an injection or one of Carl's ingenious devices? Would that change the way Carl thought about the situation? About him? Van Helsing wasn't willing to risk the only good and steady thing in his life, even though it pained him to not trust in Carl's good spirit as he should. His breathing slowed to normal and Van Helsing laughed, remembering the look on Carl's face as he threw down his bedroll. His complaints were too good-natured to take seriously. Carl obviously said some of the things he did for Van Helsing's benefit--he'd been trying to get a remark or a laugh out of him for some time. Sometimes he wanted to laugh. He wanted to clap Carl on the back and tease him as he'd always done. But what right did he have? He'd nearly strangled Carl in Transylvania. He'd killed Anna. For reasons he didn't yet know, he wore the ring of a devil. How could he touch anyone, touch Carl, so casually with those same hands? So he stayed away as much as he could, making excuses, finding things to do. He feared his distance hurt Carl, but Van Helsing knew that some kinds of pain were better than others. The pain of uncertainty being among the worst. This was the first time Van Helsing could remember not knowing what to do next. Before, he had a general purpose--to vanquish evil. He went on a mission, he completed it, and then he was sent on another, and another. Now he'd become part of the evil he'd spent his life (or lifetimes?) fighting. What did that make him? His resolve faded, his sense of duty and purpose like a shadow at dusk, slowly becoming indecipherable from the darkness around it. He thumbed his--no, Dracula's ring, spinning it on his finger, and for the hundredth time took it off and drew back his arm to throw it. For the hundredth time he found he could not. The ring held too many keys to his past. He was fascinated by it, as much as he detested it. Dracula had spoken his name with such familiarity. Such. . . glee. Someday, he would uncover his past and figure out how Dracula fit into it, he had to. But now it took all his energy just to get through each day, and night, without losing his mind. He walked back toward camp, not wanting to be too far away if Carl was sleeping. It was a cold night, damp enough to chill him through. And yet that urge was there. The urge to tear off his clothes and run, to tear off his. . humanity? To feel the animal power of the wolf again, free of worry and regret, and restraint. To feel alive. He often dreamed of the wolf. When he woke he could feel the wolf's heightened senses falling away from him like leaves in autumn. Sometimes the sensations lingered, and even though Carl slept yards away, he imagined he could smell Carl's skin, warm under layers of cloak and blanket. He'd close his eyes and breathe deeply until the comforting scent faded. Shortly after they'd left Romania, he had his first dream of Carl. Van Helsing was stretched out on top of the sleeping man, the entire length of their bodies pressed together, his mouth pressed against Carl's. At first the dream was pleasant, so much so that even now he felt a guilty shiver pass through him remembering the warm feeling of covering Carl's body with his own, feeling Carl's lips under his. But then, his dream-self realized that instead of merely kissing the man, he was drawing out his life, stealing his breath. Devouring his soul. He woke, horrified to find himself trembling on his knees beside Carl, who slept peacefully unaware. What if Van Helsing hurt him, without even realizing it? He couldn't take that chance. Another part of him wondered what if, still caught in the confusion of sleep, he'd leaned down and covered Carl's mouth with his own? He didn't dare risk something like that happening, either. Since that night, he waited for Carl to fall asleep and then he found someplace he felt was far enough away to prevent an incident of either kind, yet close enough to keep watch over him, and be at his side in an instant, if needed. Van Helsing, suddenly tired with the weight of guilt and worry he carried stopped and leaned against the trunk of a great oak. Cardinal Jinette had often claimed that Van Helsing's life, his work to stop evil, was some kind of penance for past sins. This life, being with the one person he trusted and yet finding himself unable to converse, unable to confide--this must be his ultimate punishment. Resting the back of his head against the tree, he looked toward the heavens and marveled at the gravity of the sins he must have committed to earn such hell. And part of him, the part that still clung to the wolf-life, what Van Helsing thought of as the tainted part of him, thought of the first part of his dream--the feel of his body against Carl's, the taste of the man in his mouth--and wondered if one more sin could really matter. --------------------------------------- End 2/4 [EMAIL PROTECTED] Cousin Shelley Yahoo IM: csnshelley http://www.geocities.com/csnshelley http://www.livejournal.com/users/cousinshelley/ __________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? Yahoo! Mail - Helps protect you from nasty viruses. http://promotions.yahoo.com/new_mail ------------------------ Yahoo! Groups Sponsor --------------------~--> What would our lives be like without music, dance, and theater? Donate or volunteer in the arts today at Network for Good! http://us.click.yahoo.com/pkgkPB/SOnJAA/Zx0JAA/kkxxlB/TM --------------------------------------------------------------------~-> this list is archived at: http://www.squidge.org/~peja/ Yahoo! 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