Among the Living: A Measure of Guilt
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S through Z › Van Helsing
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
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3,003
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
S through Z › Van Helsing
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
3,003
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Van Helsing, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Among the Living: A Measure of Guilt
1.
Carl poked at the fire and wished he knew the words that would draw Van Helsing out of his mood.
They had just finished eating. As usual, before Carl could even attempt conversation, Van Helsing excused himself to check the area around their camp one last time before nightfall. Carl thought they both could be saved a lot of work and worry if they chose to stay in towns and villages when possible, but Van Helsing seemed to lead them purposefully away from people. The only time they'd not been alone had been on the return trip across the Adriatic, when the presence of others simply wasn't avoidable. Van Helsing had been visibly tense the entire time they'd been on board. And unlike on land, he made it a point to hover over Carl the entire trip, as if ensuring his safety from whatever evil might lurk among the travelers.
Carl thought once they were back on the peninsula Van Helsing's aversion to strangers might abate, but it hadn't. And he'd noticed that the return trip was taking much longer than the trip to Romania. Of course, the sense of urgency was gone, but Carl couldn't help feeling it was more than that. The closer they got to Rome, the slower they traveled. Van Helsing claimed that foul weather was coming and they needed to make camp, or that the horses needed rest, or sometimes he gave no reason at all. They could have been in Rome at least three days ago without stressing their steeds, and the weather had been fair for at least a week. Today, it couldn't have been much past midday, Van Helsing barely let his horse fully stop before he dismounted. "We'll camp here," he said, without looking at Carl, and his tone left no room for argument.
Of course, Carl did argue, half-heartedly, mostly to hear the sound of someone's voice and to get some kind of a response from Van Helsing. He didn't mind stopping, truth be told he was tired of being on a horse, but he complained enthusiastically as he busied himself with his well-practiced camp preparations. "You know, Van Helsing, I've never had a rock try to bow my spine when I slept in an actual bed. In an actual inn." He threw his bedroll down with an exaggerated grunt. "In an actual village." His only reward was a slight smile. Then Van Helsing looked away quickly as if he'd done something wrong, and announced that he was going to check the area.
He came back a few times throughout the afternoon, but always managed to find reasons to go back out on his own. During the short moments Van Helsing spent by the fire, Carl groused and tried to make conversation, even if only about how uncomfortable he was. Van Helsing answered with a word or two, or none. And now, after a bit of bread and salted beef he'd gone to check the area again.
Carl could understand the man wanting to be alone, but this went beyond a need for occasional solitude. He wondered if Van Helsing delayed their return for the same reason he avoided people on route. Could he be afraid? Not for himself, but for others? Maybe he had some lingering doubt whether or not the wolf was really gone and he feared what he might do. Carl knew Van Helsing would never harm an innocent, he was certain the wolf had been destroyed with Dracula's antidote. But perhaps Van Helsing wasn't so sure. Carl sighed and prodded the fire, sending up a fountain of sparks.
That would also explain why he spent so much time away from camp. He checked the area so often and for such a length of time that more than once Carl was afraid something had happened to Van Helsing and he would never return. Sometimes Carl would wake in the middle of the night and he would be gone. Could he be afraid of hurting me? Carl wondered. At Castle Frankenstein, an enraged Van Helsing had grabbed Carl around the throat, but that was wolf struggling for dominance over the man. And the man defeated the beast, that time. Carl hadn't been harmed.
Anna Valerious hadn't been so fortunate.
He knew Van Helsing carried such guilt about Anna; he probably would for some time, if not forever. Carl had tried logic: "Van Helsing, the werewolf killed Anna. It just happened to be inhabiting your body at the time. It could as easily have been her own brother." Carl tried pleading: "Anna would not blame you. Look how she regarded Velkan, even as he was gripped by the werewolf's curse. She spoke to you of forgiveness once. Please, forgive yourself." He'd even tried, though he regretted it now, another form of guilt: "Anna's wish was to see her family again. You told me yourself that you know she's with them now, and she's happy. To know the guilt you carry for her sake, to see you this way, would cause her great pain, Van Helsing. Let it go."
Despite the brilliance of his arguments, Carl knew if he'd been the one carrying the wolf inside him and had caused Anna's death, it would be difficult not to feel the same way. He felt a measure of guilt himself. If only he'd have been able to get the antidote to Van Helsing, maybe he'd be smoke and ash and Anna would still be beautifully alive. Carl blinked back tears for Anna, and shamefully accepted that some of those tears were for himself. It wasn't a stretch to compare Van Helsing's guilt to what Carl himself would feel if Van Helsing, in wolf form, hadn't turned and grabbed Carl's wrist, preventing him from driving the silver stake home.
It wasn't a stretch to compare it to how he felt now, knowing he'd been one second away from killing a man who meant more to him than anyone. How much Van Helsing meant to him honestly surprised Carl. He cared, he was always aware of that. But two days ago he'd been rummaging around in his satchel and his hand brushed the stake, and the depth of his feeling overwhelmed him. He had to sit before he fell down--he'd almost killed the person he was closest to in this world. Tremors overtook him, the tears came, and he wasn't able to stop for several minutes. For once, he was thankful that Van Helsing happened to be off on his own. Carl couldn't stop seeing himself driving the stake into the wolf then watching it morph back into a dying man. A dying Gabriel Van Helsing. Carl knew a thing or two about pain, and guilt.
But he was aware that guilt wasn't the only thing troubling Van Helsing. Carl caught him staring many times at the ring he wore, usually while they ate, the only time Van Helsing seemed to sit still. 'Not knowing' had never seemed to haunt him quite this much. Carl vowed to redouble his efforts to help Van Helsing unravel his past once they got back to the Vatican. But that didn't help him now.
More than once he'd considered putting his arms around Van Helsing, pulling him into an embrace and telling him to let go, let it out, everything will be all right. Sometimes the urge to do it was so strong as to make Carl uncomfortable. He found he wanted to hold his friend, the friend he'd almost killed, a low little voice reminded him, and tell him he was safe. Considering everything they'd been through together, it seemed ridiculous that Carl could be so flustered at the thought of offering a simple hug. After much thought, and even prayer, Carl decided that it was something he should do. But Van Helsing avoided him to such a degree he feared the gesture would be not only unwelcome, but almost offensive.
Right now, Carl decided, he would do the only thing he could. He would find Van Helsing while his resolve was strong and explain his revelations about the man's odd behavior. He would confront him about his reluctance to return to Rome and his avoidance of villages where they actually have beds. And his unwillingness to be near Carl for any length of time.
Carl meant to convince him that none of these precautions was necessary.
--------------------------------------
Cousin Shelley
csnshelley@yahoo.com
http://www.geocities.com/csnshelley
http://www.livejournal.com/users/cousinshelley/
Carl poked at the fire and wished he knew the words that would draw Van Helsing out of his mood.
They had just finished eating. As usual, before Carl could even attempt conversation, Van Helsing excused himself to check the area around their camp one last time before nightfall. Carl thought they both could be saved a lot of work and worry if they chose to stay in towns and villages when possible, but Van Helsing seemed to lead them purposefully away from people. The only time they'd not been alone had been on the return trip across the Adriatic, when the presence of others simply wasn't avoidable. Van Helsing had been visibly tense the entire time they'd been on board. And unlike on land, he made it a point to hover over Carl the entire trip, as if ensuring his safety from whatever evil might lurk among the travelers.
Carl thought once they were back on the peninsula Van Helsing's aversion to strangers might abate, but it hadn't. And he'd noticed that the return trip was taking much longer than the trip to Romania. Of course, the sense of urgency was gone, but Carl couldn't help feeling it was more than that. The closer they got to Rome, the slower they traveled. Van Helsing claimed that foul weather was coming and they needed to make camp, or that the horses needed rest, or sometimes he gave no reason at all. They could have been in Rome at least three days ago without stressing their steeds, and the weather had been fair for at least a week. Today, it couldn't have been much past midday, Van Helsing barely let his horse fully stop before he dismounted. "We'll camp here," he said, without looking at Carl, and his tone left no room for argument.
Of course, Carl did argue, half-heartedly, mostly to hear the sound of someone's voice and to get some kind of a response from Van Helsing. He didn't mind stopping, truth be told he was tired of being on a horse, but he complained enthusiastically as he busied himself with his well-practiced camp preparations. "You know, Van Helsing, I've never had a rock try to bow my spine when I slept in an actual bed. In an actual inn." He threw his bedroll down with an exaggerated grunt. "In an actual village." His only reward was a slight smile. Then Van Helsing looked away quickly as if he'd done something wrong, and announced that he was going to check the area.
He came back a few times throughout the afternoon, but always managed to find reasons to go back out on his own. During the short moments Van Helsing spent by the fire, Carl groused and tried to make conversation, even if only about how uncomfortable he was. Van Helsing answered with a word or two, or none. And now, after a bit of bread and salted beef he'd gone to check the area again.
Carl could understand the man wanting to be alone, but this went beyond a need for occasional solitude. He wondered if Van Helsing delayed their return for the same reason he avoided people on route. Could he be afraid? Not for himself, but for others? Maybe he had some lingering doubt whether or not the wolf was really gone and he feared what he might do. Carl knew Van Helsing would never harm an innocent, he was certain the wolf had been destroyed with Dracula's antidote. But perhaps Van Helsing wasn't so sure. Carl sighed and prodded the fire, sending up a fountain of sparks.
That would also explain why he spent so much time away from camp. He checked the area so often and for such a length of time that more than once Carl was afraid something had happened to Van Helsing and he would never return. Sometimes Carl would wake in the middle of the night and he would be gone. Could he be afraid of hurting me? Carl wondered. At Castle Frankenstein, an enraged Van Helsing had grabbed Carl around the throat, but that was wolf struggling for dominance over the man. And the man defeated the beast, that time. Carl hadn't been harmed.
Anna Valerious hadn't been so fortunate.
He knew Van Helsing carried such guilt about Anna; he probably would for some time, if not forever. Carl had tried logic: "Van Helsing, the werewolf killed Anna. It just happened to be inhabiting your body at the time. It could as easily have been her own brother." Carl tried pleading: "Anna would not blame you. Look how she regarded Velkan, even as he was gripped by the werewolf's curse. She spoke to you of forgiveness once. Please, forgive yourself." He'd even tried, though he regretted it now, another form of guilt: "Anna's wish was to see her family again. You told me yourself that you know she's with them now, and she's happy. To know the guilt you carry for her sake, to see you this way, would cause her great pain, Van Helsing. Let it go."
Despite the brilliance of his arguments, Carl knew if he'd been the one carrying the wolf inside him and had caused Anna's death, it would be difficult not to feel the same way. He felt a measure of guilt himself. If only he'd have been able to get the antidote to Van Helsing, maybe he'd be smoke and ash and Anna would still be beautifully alive. Carl blinked back tears for Anna, and shamefully accepted that some of those tears were for himself. It wasn't a stretch to compare Van Helsing's guilt to what Carl himself would feel if Van Helsing, in wolf form, hadn't turned and grabbed Carl's wrist, preventing him from driving the silver stake home.
It wasn't a stretch to compare it to how he felt now, knowing he'd been one second away from killing a man who meant more to him than anyone. How much Van Helsing meant to him honestly surprised Carl. He cared, he was always aware of that. But two days ago he'd been rummaging around in his satchel and his hand brushed the stake, and the depth of his feeling overwhelmed him. He had to sit before he fell down--he'd almost killed the person he was closest to in this world. Tremors overtook him, the tears came, and he wasn't able to stop for several minutes. For once, he was thankful that Van Helsing happened to be off on his own. Carl couldn't stop seeing himself driving the stake into the wolf then watching it morph back into a dying man. A dying Gabriel Van Helsing. Carl knew a thing or two about pain, and guilt.
But he was aware that guilt wasn't the only thing troubling Van Helsing. Carl caught him staring many times at the ring he wore, usually while they ate, the only time Van Helsing seemed to sit still. 'Not knowing' had never seemed to haunt him quite this much. Carl vowed to redouble his efforts to help Van Helsing unravel his past once they got back to the Vatican. But that didn't help him now.
More than once he'd considered putting his arms around Van Helsing, pulling him into an embrace and telling him to let go, let it out, everything will be all right. Sometimes the urge to do it was so strong as to make Carl uncomfortable. He found he wanted to hold his friend, the friend he'd almost killed, a low little voice reminded him, and tell him he was safe. Considering everything they'd been through together, it seemed ridiculous that Carl could be so flustered at the thought of offering a simple hug. After much thought, and even prayer, Carl decided that it was something he should do. But Van Helsing avoided him to such a degree he feared the gesture would be not only unwelcome, but almost offensive.
Right now, Carl decided, he would do the only thing he could. He would find Van Helsing while his resolve was strong and explain his revelations about the man's odd behavior. He would confront him about his reluctance to return to Rome and his avoidance of villages where they actually have beds. And his unwillingness to be near Carl for any length of time.
Carl meant to convince him that none of these precautions was necessary.
--------------------------------------
Cousin Shelley
csnshelley@yahoo.com
http://www.geocities.com/csnshelley
http://www.livejournal.com/users/cousinshelley/