Shards of Salvation

Shards of Salvation

TIMELINE : 4 years after Gabriel Van Helsing becomes a Hunter for the Order.
PLACE : Vatican City, Rome, Italy.
DISCLAIMER : I don’t own these characters. I make no money.
PAIRING : Gabriel/Carl
RATING : R to NC-17
BETA : No. Don’t use one. Don’t recommend it. Thanks. My writing is my own. My mistakes are my own. This is for fun, not for sale.

Mid Afternoon July 05

CHAPTER TWO

Carl nervously scratched his nose. This had been the longest two days of his life. Gabriel had indeed gone through the ordeal and he was now with the healers. No one was allowed to see him, not yet. The sunburn was now peeling and his neck, cheeks and nose all itched. Now he wasn’t exactly pasty white, but he did -burn- easily. Harsh elements had never been his friends. He was standing in the main area of the healing ward, dressed normally and cursing the monks robe for its way of managing to make him itch even -more-.

"Is he alright?" Carl asked brother Ferdinand who came out of the hunter’s room looking a bit on the annoyed side.

"Carl, for at the 100th time. He will be fine. That man has endured far worse than a lashing He is refusing however to let me put ointment on him. Practically tore my hair when I tried." The bald monk washed his hands in a nearby basin.

"Well, maybe I can help? He can see people now. The two days are up." Carl offered, stumbling slightly over his words as he attempted not to sound too eager.

Ferdinand crossed his arms and stared at the young man. "If you can get him to use this ointment, then God will be eternally grateful for I am sure that he is tired of hearing that man curse. I warn you, the place that requires the ointment is in a very sensitive location." he put a vial into Carl’s hand.

"Sensitive location? What do you mean?" Carl’s eyebrows shot up.

The healer smirked, knowing full well as many in the order did that the young friar had no idea what he was getting into. "The whip accidentally cut open a particular sensitive part of his skin, just under his buttocks. Such things happen, I’m afraid, when the brandisher is not experienced. He won’t let me touch it, and he can’t see to apply it properly himself. The wound needs cleaning, and possibly stitching."

Carl blinked several times, his fingers trembling slightly as he held the vial. "But I don’t know how to … "

"Its very easy Carl. And you -have- watched me do this before. Good luck." he patted the young man on the shoulder, consequently right on his burn thus causing a slight yelp to escape his lips. With that, Ferdinand strode towards the room of another patient.

"Carl? Is that you?" A gruff voice called from Van Helsing’s room.

Carl swallowed nervously, "Yes. Er. Me. Right." he fidgeted, wondering whether or not he was up to this. Watching Brother Ferdinand perform his surgeries was one thing, being exposed to Gabriel’s naked flesh, was another.

"Well, are you coming in?" asked Gabriel.

The friar sighed and resigned himself. There was no point in putting -this- off. He entered the small chamber and let his eyes fall upon the man currently laying face down upon a very uncomfortable looking mattress. He had been stripped of all clothing, naturally and the young man had a hard time not letting his gaze travel over the fine figure, focusing upon Gabriel’s face. "Hullo," he smiled. "I suppose Welcome Home is somewhat redundant at this point." He set the vial down and studied the damage to Gabriel’s back.

The healers in Vatican City were extremely good at their tasks. Some of the scars were already fading due to the special ointments and hard to find cures that existed here. He was sure that the man had been bathed and cleaned too. There were a few obvious stitches, but all in all the whip had been kind and Carl thanked God for that small mercy.

Gabriel in turn studied Carl, not liking the fact that his face was still rather red, though his peeling nose was entirely too cute. Cute enough that it made the hunter smile. Everything had been worth it, just for this moment. "Its not that bad." he said huskily. "What happened to you?"

"What happened to me? Oh? Heh." Carl shook his head, "Nothing serious. Just a sunburn, you know me." The young man cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Um, Brother Ferdinand says you won’t let him tend to something rather serious."

"Carl you spend all your time in the lab, how on earth did you get a sunburn?" Gabriel rested on his head on his hand as he watched the Friar. God, how he loved these moments. He was so close to the one thing in his life that made sense. So close to the one thing that kept him sane. He shrugged at Carl’s next words. "Its fine. I just don’t want anyone touching me there."

In actual fact, it was extremely painful. Every time he moved he could feel the skin tearing just a little more. Perhaps if he lay very still it would start to heal.

"Van Helsing." Carl spoke in a particular tone of voice that always made the hunter smirk. It meant that a chastising was about to come. "Even the smallest wound needs to be cleansed, you know the kind of diseases that go around. Don’t be foolish. What about me? You trust me don’t you? I could take a look." It -sounded- so perfectly innocent he was surprised at himself. It wasn’t that he desperately wanted to get a look at that perfectly shaped ass. It may be his only opportunity to touch it too, to feel the skin under his fingers and to…stop it Carl! He mentally smacked himself.

For Gabriel, the world suddenly turned around and flipped inside out. Carl’s hands on him. Those fingers had -never- touched him before in the places he longed to be touched. Carl was only asking him out of concern. He was sure. Gabriel found himself nodding, "You, I trust."

Carl could not figure out whether that was agreement or not. He opted to take it for such and moved closer to the man as Gabriel rested his head in his arms. Carl put the vial down and drew off his monks robes because they were just going to get in the way at this point. Brother Ferdinand never wore them while healing, too much chance of material getting caught. Underneath he wore his simple pants and cotton shirt, much easier to perform this particular duty. As long as he kept his mind on something that did not affect other -areas-, he was sure he’d be fine.

He carefully slid the ‘sheet’ down to reveal the swell of his friend’s buttocks. He had to take a moment to marvel at the revelation. Absolutely… He swallowed. There was nothing that could describe them better than -that-. He had seen Van helping’s upper body before, of course, the lower only left to imagination. He found his neck becoming slightly hot as Gabriel’s legs shifted and he could see the power in the muscles of the man’s thighs. Heaven…it would be worth giving up Heaven just to lean forward and run his tongue…

"Carl, how bad is it?" Gabriel asked, jarring the impure thoughts from his mind.

Carl could see the reason why his friend was in pain. The whip had cut across tender flesh, dipping slightly between the fold that linked his buttocks to his inner thigh. It was tearing with every movement and needed immediate attention before it got any worse. "You need stitches there." he said hoarsely.

"Can you do it?" The elder man resigned himself. At least he was lying on his stomach, if anything happened. Carl would not know.

The friar nodded, "Yes, but its going to hurt."

*Not if your fingers are there.* Gabriel wanted to tell him. This was a risk he was willing to take, if just for the fact that he would have the memory of those sweet fingers upon his skin. "Its alright," he said.

"Why did you do it?" Carl asked softly as he began prepare a cloth which to help clean the wound. "You let him get to you, and you know how intolerant he is of disobedience."

"I don’t know. Sometimes I think he knows more than he is letting on, about me. I mean." Gabriel winced when he felt the cool water in that most sensitive place, then bit his lip to keep a whimper at bay upon contact with Carl’s warm fingers. God Almighty, it was almost more than he could bear. Then he started rubbing the skin, very gently and Gabriel could not help but moan.

Carl’s finger’s stilled, worried at the reaction. Gabriel shook his head and bade him to continue so the friar did. Carefully, the friar clensed the wound, running his fingers up and down the soft tender skin a little more than necessary. He was glad that he was wearing loose trousers, too. He had stopped talking, for he could not think of anything to say, his mind was not giving him anything convenient to talk about.

Gabriel was not speaking either, in fact, the only sounds coming from the elder man were soft moans and gentle whimpers. Carl, being ignorant of such things, was of course assuming these were sounds of pain.

When the wound was ready for stitching, Carl’s mind became far more focused upon the task at hand. Worry for causing Gabriel more pain was above all else. He carefully drew the needle through the delicate skin, one hand spread across the hunter’s skin, holding it steady. "Don’t move." he requested softly.

Move. That was all he wanted to do. To move. Gabriel wanted to shift himself so that those fingers were nearer to his most sensitive spot. To thrust back so that they would delve deep inside, penetrating him. The elder man was so far gone by now that he could not stifle a cry as the needle pierced his skin.

Carl wiped sweat from his brow, completely oblivious to the actual reasons for the sounds coming from his friend. Quickly, he worked. His stitches were even and careful, a result of studying Brother Ferdinand’s skill time after time. Finally, it was done, where was the knife to cut the thread with? He glanced around desperately, nothing. Sighing, he leant down, and used his teeth to cut the thread.

The warmth of Carl’s breath was his undoing. Gabriel felt his warm seed come forth, and was eternally grateful that he was covered with a sheet and lying on his stomach. He forced his body under control, but he was unable to stop the trembling when at last Carl’s fingers left his skin.

Carl of course misconstrued this as a chill, and pulled the sheet and blanket up over the elder man tenderly unable to resist brushing his hair away from his eyes. "That wasn’t so bad was it? Better?"

Gabriel nodded, quite unable to speak at the moment. He’d never felt so frustrated in his entire life. So much innocence stared back down at him, and it was so rare that he got to see the young man out of his robes.

"You should get some rest." Carl said after a while. He rather fancied the idea of a cold shower as he reached up to scratch at his peeling nose.

"Don’t do that," Gabriel grasped that hand and pulled it away, "You’ll get a scar."

For a long time they stared at each other until Carl finally cleared his throat and tugged his hand away. "I’d best go, I have the rest of your things in my room." he said.

"Thank-you." The hunter whispered quietly, forcefully burying his feelings. "I’ll pick them up later this evening."

Carl grabbed his robe and tossed it on over his head, without realizing that it was inside-out. The young friar then smiled and scurried out of the chamber to run into brother Ferdinand.

"Did he let you do it?" The healer asked, taking in the Friar’s appearance with some amusment.

"Yes, er. He’s okay now." Carl almost tripped over a chair in his haste to retreat.

Brother Ferdinand watched Carl disappear around the corner into the corridor beyond. Interesting. He’d long suspected, given the many times he’d tended Van Helsing after a mission and Carl had come to visit. Yet…it was not his place to do or say anything. The two men would have to figure out how to deal with this brewing situation. Carl was far too inexperienced to really know what he was doing. He hoped that the hunter had the honor not to take without the friar fully understanding.

From the gossip among his peers, he knew that Gabriel Van Helsing was no saint. In fact, he was well known in the brothels, especially with young blonde men. In the Vatican, such gossip took place behind closed doors and amongst trusted friends or lovers. To be overheard by a higher member of the order meant dire consequences. Discretion was a way of life for a Vatican Monk.

**To Be Continued**