Van Helsing / Hellboy Crossover

[munnin]

Title: Forgive Me 
Van Helsing / Hellboy Crossover
Author: Munnin
Pairing: Myers/Van Helsing
Rating: Mature
Disclaimer: No money. No ownership. Just enjoyment.

 

1***

Van Helsing skidded along the wet pavement. He could feel the demon just ahead of him but more worryingly he could sense two other individuals keeping pace with him somewhere out of sight. He rounded the bend into a blind alley and fired, knowing the thing was trapped now. He felt the firing mechanism of the bow shift and shudder in his hand. Damn! Without Carl, even his weapons were falling apart.

 

The demon turned to face him, suddenly too big to deal with in such a confined space. His hands flew to his belt searching for something, anything that might stop this thing. He took a few steps back, eyes always on the target, breathing deeply and assessing his chances. They weren’t pretty. The demon stepped forward, following the Hunter, deciding how best to kill him.

 

Out of the corner of his eye Van Helsing saw another figure move into position, blocking the other end of the road. The demon looked for one to the other. Ahh! thought Van Helsing. Now you have two targets! But in the back of his mind he was frantically wondering if he now had two enemies.

 

He took another step back into the deserted road allowing himself to view the other man without losing sight of his quarry. The newcomer was slim and hairless, dressed in a tight black body suit and an odd collar but strangest of all was the blue-grey shades of his skin and long webbed fingers. He inclined his head to the Hunter and returned his focus to the hunkering demon.

 

“Idolitis demon. Rare these days.” The blue man’s voice was strangely tinny. “Do you know how to kill it?” The two men stepped back again, keeping out of range of the slowly advancing demon.

 

“Not as such, No.” Van Helsing answered flatly, keeping his eyes on the target.

 

The blue man slid a long obsidian dagger out of a belt scabbard. “You need to damage the heart, the eyes or the spinal cord. Think you can that?” Van Helsing nodded cautiously wondering what exactly this creature had planned. “Ready?” The Hunter nodded again. “Go!”

 

The knife scythed cleanly through the air neatly into Van Helsing’s hand as he rushed forward. The blue man released a strange sound that echoed through the Hunter’s body, felt more than heard. The demon reeling from the reverberations momentarily lost its balance, massive wing-like arms flapping in a battle to stay upright. Van Helsing took advantage of this, ducking under the flailing limbs to thrust the glass blade between the jutting vertebrate and twist. The demon shuddered, collapsing backwards onto the triumphant Hunter, covering him in cobalt coloured goo.

 

Right. Going to be one of those days. He hauled himself out from under the demon’s corpse; stooping to retrieve the knife and wiping it clean on the leg of his pants. “Thank you.” He said, holding the dagger out to the blue man, politely handle first. The long webbed fingers brushed lightly over his skin as the blue man accepted the knife. A startled but sweet expression shone in the overlarge blue eyes as the blue man collapses.   

 

2 ***

 

Hellboy took the high road leaping from rooftop to rooftop keeping parallel to the demon’s path. Between jumps he could see Liz and Myers moving along the ground with the other agents. Abe had chosen a different path, racing through the sewers. He’d lost track of Blue as soon as he went subterranean but trusted Clay to keep an eye out.

 

As it was Clay was three blocks back wheezing to catch his breath. Through he would hardly have admitted it to the others; he never truly recovered from his encounter with Kroenen. Time to get out of the field, he thought panting. Time for a desk job.

 

Hellboy saw the fallen demon as he came over the roof. Four points Boy Scout! He started down the side of the building. He would have jumped but it tended to freak Liz out. As he descended he realised something was wrong. No sign of Myers, Liz or any of the others. Just a tall stranger bent over Abe, knife in hand, covered in blood. Blue blood.

 

Aw, crap! He fell the rest of the way to the ground, landing heavily on his stone hand. The stranger turned to face him and was thrown across the road as Hellboy’s stone fist connected with his stomach. “No-one hurts my buddy!” He grabbed the stranger by the collar of his leather duster and threw him hard against the wall.

 

Myers broke into a sprint as the sounds of combat reached him. He hit the corner just in time to duck as 6 foot 4 of battered human was toss towards his head. To give the stranger his due he managed to get to his feet before Hellboy tackled him again. Myers signalled the others to stay back as he made a dash to Abe’s side.

 

Abe, now almost conscious, had pushed himself on to his back and was gasping for air. Myers ran his hands over the respirator collar searching for any damage. “No.” Abe gripped his sleeve with an un-gloved hand. “You have to stop him John...he’s on our side.” And passed out.

 

Clay and the other agents had edged across the combat zone and were calling for medical back up. Myers shot at the older argent a quick glance. “I’ve got him covered. You deal with Red.” Clay said as he knelt at Abe’s side. “Before he kills the guy.”

 

Great! He thought surveying the scene. How the hell do I make him stop?

 

Liz sidled up next to him, following his gaze. “I can stop HB if you can get that guy out.”

 

They both flinched as Hellboy threw the stranger to the ground again. “What do you propose?” he asked, braced to run.

 

Liz’s laughter was warm and dangerous. “Watch and learn Boy Scout!” Blue flames licked her hands and spread. Dancing through her hair like a living halo. She stepped towards Hellboy; outstretched arms, burning like a heathen goddess. Hellboy dropped the battered stranger to the ground and turned to greet her, dazzled by the display. In the months after Professor Broom’s death she had worked hard to control the fire and had become very good at it. And it never ceased to impress.

 

Myers grabbed the stranger, managing to drag the injured man a little away from Hellboy before he realised just how heavy the guy was. He was battered, bleeding and barely conscious. Myers ran his eyes over the stranger. One of his arms was broken in several places, the other: maybe only in one or two. The stranger’s side was a pulpy mess. Myers sucked in a sympathetic hiss, broken ribs. Painful!

 

The stranger moaned and tried to sit up. Myers placed a restraining hand on the uninjured side of his chest. “It’s alright. Help’s on its way. Lay still.”

 

The stranger stretched a blood-slicked hand towards Myers, touching his cheek lightly. “Forgive me Carl.” John caught the hand as it fell, the stranger slipping into darkness.

 

3 ***

 

The darkness impaled Van Helsing as he slipped into unconsciousness. Every night was the same. He fought and failed to save Carl and every night he was forced to remember. To relive the moment he held his beloved friar in his arms and watched the life slip from the bright blue eyes. And every morning he woke to a world empty and cold, to a life haunted and meaningless.

 

***

 

John waited with the stranger till the second medical crew arrived. Liz did her part, distracting Hellboy from his pummelling long enough to pass on Abe’s message. “On our side hmm?” Hellboy called in his usual cavalier tone, cracking his neck and lighting a cigar. “You sort him out then hey Boy Scout?”

 

Clay waved to him at they loaded Abe into the back the bureau’s camouflaged ambulances. “Want me to wait with you?”

 

Myers shook his head. “I’ll be fine. The second team can’t be far off.”

 

Clay gave him a sad look. “Let’s just hope he makes it hey?”

 

John waited in the hall of the medical unit for what seemed like a lifetime. They’d released Abe hours again. He’d tapped the napping Myers lightly on the shoulder as he left. “You’re waiting for him.” Abe whispered, more statement than question.

 

John nodded, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I thought someone should.” But there was something about that fleeting moment when the stranger touched him that captivated John in a way he couldn’t understand. Or forget.

 

Abe cocked his head and stared at him in a way Myers knew meant his mind was being read. Abe squeezed his shoulder gently. “He is very special. Care for him.” As he walked away he called over his shoulder. “Meet me in the Professor’s study when you’re ready.”

 

Marcus shook him awake again later and beckoned him to follow. The Head of Medical was a tall African American man with broad shoulders and a gentle southern accent. “We could have come and got you. You didn’t have to wait.” He chided, pushing a cup of coffee into John’s hand.

 

John shrugged and nursed the mug. “Will he live?”

 

Marcus’ deep laugh was surprisingly loud in the echoing corridor. “He’s a tough bastard I’ll give him that. He took everything Hellboy could throw at him and he’s still breathing.” He took a long draft of the coffee. “We’ve done everything we can and it looks like he’ll pull through just fine. We’ve put him in a controlled coma to give his body time to recover.”

 

John let out a sigh of relief. “How long will he be out for?”

 

“A month. It seems as if he’s already started to heal. Impressive!” Marcus said almost to himself. “You gonna be his liaison?” John nodded vaguely, lost in thought. “We’ll keep him here for a week or so then set up a room for him on your floor.”

 

Myers accepted all this in silence. Marcus had a reputation for performing minor miracles on a regular basis. If he was sure that the stranger would recover then John believed him even if it didn’t seem possible after the beating he’d taken. “Thanks for the coffee.”

 

Marcus’ laughed, low and cheerful as he accepted the mug. “Anytime Myers. Only next time you should try drinking it!”

 

4 ***

 

“Van Helsing!”

 

He turned as Carl shouted at him. The second gargoyle swept low over his head but he managed to roll in time to avoid the long talons as they grazed past his shoulder. Carl slammed the re-loader into the bow and tossed it to him. The momently distraction cost him a view of the first circling monster and he threw himself against the fallen tree for cover.

 

The second beast landed heavily on his left and he turned to fire, unloading the full clip into the stone hide but the beast kept coming.

 

“No good!” He yelled to Carl as he scrabbling over the fallen wood.

 

“Consecrated ground. Head for the church.” And they both ran.

 

Van Helsing saw the first gargoyle too late to cry out. It swooped low, catching the little friar by the arm and dragged him high into the air. Van Helsing dropped everything to run, trying to keep them in sight. If Carl fell now... The second gargoyle wheeled around mid-air to challenge the first. Fighting over Carl like some tasty morsel. It grabbed at him, catching the friar’s leg and pulled, lashing out at its rival.

 

Carl’s screams tore through Van Helsing’s very soul.

 

It hit the ground with a thud, ready to feast on its prey but Van Helsing’s hand found the hilt of his sword.

 

Red mist descended and the berserker rage took over. 

 

No longer an adversary - he was a nemesis.

 

The instrument of retribution.

 

An Avenging Angel.

 

The gargoyles lay in pieces around him. Thick green blood dripping from his blade.

 

And then he saw Carl.

 

***

 

“So what’s the deal with this guy?” Hellboy demanded as they gathered round the table in the Professor’s study. Abe didn’t answer at once. Lost in thought, he stared at the statue in the centre of the room as if seeing it for the first time. The Angel vanquishing the demon. “Abe!”

 

Abe turned, focusing on them for the first time. “Yes?”

 

“What the hell is this guy’s deal? If he’s on our side, why was he beat’n on you? And why the hell’d ya stop me killing him?” Hellboy demanded, thumping his fist on the table.

 

“He wasn’t beating on me as you so eloquently put it. I collapsed when I touched him.” He turned back to stare at the statue. “It was too much.” He mumbled almost to himself.

 

“What was too much Abe?” Liz asked gently. Seeing him like this frightened her. She wanted the confident, knowing Abe back.

 

“The light. Powerful forces guard that man. He is…divinely protected.” Abe said with a sigh.

 

“Didn’t protect him from me did it?” Hellboy sniggered, earning himself a glare from the rest of the group and a punch in the arm from Liz.

 

“I don’t know why he’s here.” Abe whispered, staring at the angel again. “But we should do our best for him while he is.”

 

“Well Myers’ got that covered. Don’t you Boy Scout?” John winced as Hellboy slapped him on the back. He’d gotten use to the nickname but it still irritated him sometimes especially now Liz used it too.

 

Abe asked him to stay as the others left. The Merman stood beside the statue very still, staring into the angel’s face. “What do you see John?”

 

Myers shrugged, examining the sculpture in more detail. “A cast bronze statue. An angel striking down a demon with a spear. Good triumphing over evil.” He looked closely at the angel’s face. It was determined and resolute but there was something else there too. Something in the eyes. Pain? Grief maybe. A deep sorrow. There was something hauntingly familiar about that look.

 

Ade’s hand was surprisingly warm on his shoulder. “Care for him John. He needs you.”

 

5 ***

 

Blood gushed from Carl’s side. Too much. Too red. The blood of Venus. Lifeblood. Van Helsing tore at his clothing franticly trying to stop the bleeding.

 

Carl’s face was strangely serene as he took Van Helsing’s hand. “Gabriel. It’s too late.”

 

“No.” he demanded, too shocked to realise Carl had used his given name for the first time. “I won’t lose you.”

 

Carl smiled, stroking his face tenderly. “Please Gabriel. I have something I have to tell you.”

 

He lifted Carl into his arms; bring the friar’s face as close as he could to his. “It’s going to be alright Carl. I promise I’ll save you. Just stay with me.” Fat tears ran unnoticed down his cheeks.

 

Carl smiled again, untroubled and calm. “I wish I could.” He ran his thumb over the Hunter’s cheek, brushing away the tears. He’d held this flame in his heart for so long. He knew now he must show it before it went out. Nothing left to lose. “I love you Gabriel.”

 

Van Helsing choked back a sob. “I love you too Carl…Since the moment I met you...I should have told you…I was so afraid I’d lose you…” his voice shaky and broken.

 

“Shh.” Carl pressed his fingers to the Hunter lips. “No more of that.” With the last of his strength he lifted his head to touch his lips to Van Helsing’s. In a single kiss they both poured out their hearts. So many years lost to fear and regret, all swept away by this one moment of passion.

 

Their first kiss. And their last.

 

Van Helsing fought to memorise every detail. The taste of Carl’s lips, sweet and pure. The soft warmth of the friar’s hands on his face, in his hair. The weight of Carl in his arms snuggled almost childlike against his chest.

 

He drew back to stare into his beloved’s eyes. “Forgive me Carl.”

 

But the bright blue eyes clouded and closed. Forever.

 

***

Myers had set to researching almost immediately after leaving Abe. If he was to care for this man he needed to know more about him. A name at least. It took weeks to find even the smallest clue and in the end he was forced to call in favours from friends in the FBI and even they couldn’t to give him much.

 

Whispers about some long denied secret order within the Catholic Church. Reports of unexplained disturbances in the Westbridge area. In the end John had decided to go for a drive. See what he could find for himself.

 

Which lead him to the steps of St Bartholomew’s church. It had once been an impressive building but now lost between derelict flats and empty shops, it looked rundown and deserted. Only a little light from one of the high windows belied its abandonment.

 

The doors of the church were locked and barred so John knocked. The sound echoed thunderously throughout the church and was followed by the sound of shuffling feet. Suddenly unsure, John carefully unclipped the holster of his pistol. He had been with the BPRD too long now not to pay attention to his instincts and something about this place felt…odd.

 

The door opened slightly as if the person on the other side wasn’t too confident either. “What do you want?” demanded a voice though the meagre crack.

 

“I’m Agent Myers, FBI.” Old habits die hard. “I’m looking for information on a man found…”

 

The voice from within cut him off. “Well you won’t find him here.”

 

The door started to close but Myers jammed his foot in it. “I know. He’s with us.” He decided to play the sympathy card. “He’s hurt. Please. I need to know how to help him.”

 

The door opened slightly more to reveal a small, balding, threadbare priest in thick glasses. “You better come in then.”

 

6 ***

Marcus and his team set the man up in the spare room across from John’s. There were so many empty rooms now, most of the agents choosing to live off-site. Each closed door reminding John of friends lost in the field: Quarry and Moss, Stone and Lime. Good men who gave their lives for the fight.

 

“How is he?” he asked Marcus quietly as the others left.

 

“Healing well. He should be up and about in a week or so.” Marcus studied the man in silence for a moment. “Whoever he is, he’s had a hard life even before HB gave him a beating. He has nightmares. Bad ones. You might want to keep an eye on him.” He turned to consider John. “Did you find out anything about him?”

 

“A little bit, yes.”

 

***

 

Father Mathew pushed a cup of tea into John’s hand. They sat in the upper chamber of the church, the only inhabitable space in the whole building. The rest of the church had fallen into neglect and disrepair, pews scattered like skittles and vestments mouldering. The priest followed John gaze. “He offered to help me straighten up when he got back you know. Not strong enough to do it myself. He’s a good man at heart. No matter what they say about him.”

 

Figuring it was better to let the Father reminisce, Myers sat back and let him go, sipping his tea and listening for facts among the ramblings.

 

“Strong as an ox that man. You know they say he took on a manticore once. Killed it too. ‘Course that was before Friar Carl died. He was never the same after that. Or so they say. Would have loved to have seen him in his prime but that was long before my time.”

 

“Carl?” John prompted carefully, trying not to betray the little jump in his heart.

 

“Aye. Carl. What a team they made! The brains and the brawn. Beauty and the beast.” He cackled warmly. “Pretty blond thing he was. And a right smart one too. Wasn’t nothin’ he couldn’t build. Made weapons that defied the laws of physics. Broke the Hunter’s heart when the little friar died. Blamed himself they say. Reckon he still does some. But he never stops fightin’. And probably never will till one of ‘em finally beats him.”

 

“If you don’t mind me asking? When did Carl die?”

 

Father Mathew turned to face him, staring the young man in the eye as if daring him to argue. “Nearly 120 years ago.”

 

***

 

John sat in Van Helsing’s room squinting at the computer screen. After much negotiation between the bureau and the Vatican and on the recommendation of Father Mathew, John was given access to some of the church’s confidential files on Van Helsing.

 

Found injured on the steps of Saint Peter’s in Rome in 1881, Van Helsing became a monster hunter for a clandestine group known as the Order. Not unlike the Bureau, the Order existed to protect the people for the greater Evil. John couldn’t help but smile. Van Helsing and Hellboy really weren’t that different in the end. The files contained very little about the Friar Carl, a few short mentions of him accompanying the Hunter on missions and a date of death.  

 

John felt strangely uncomfortable about working with the lights on while Van Helsing slept so he worked by the glow of the computer monitor and the tall candles Liz had given him last Christmas.

 

Van Helsing tossed and turned in troubled sleep. It had been a month now since the incident that left the Hunter battered and broken. The medical team had cleared Van Helsing of injury but the tall man had still not woken from the induced coma.

 

“Carl… should have told you…forgive me…” The hunter moaned in his sleep. The pain in the man’s voice brought a lump to John’s throat. He switched off the computer and sat in the overstuffed chair beside the bed hoping his presence would somehow calm Van Helsing. The flickering candle light caught the Hunter’s features in stark relief, sadness etched into every line of his face.

 

John found himself taking one of the Hunter’s large hands in his own and stroking stubbled cheek. “He would have forgiven you. I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to suffer like this.”

 

7 ***

 

Van Helsing woke in a strange room. He lay still for long minute, letting the pain and loss wash over him. Even after all these years, he never woke up without feeling the ache of hollowness Carl’s death left. After a while he could put a wall round it, steel himself against the grief but in that moment of waking, the memory assaulted full force.

 

He let his head fall to one side, taking in the room. It was small and neat but windowless. Great! A cell, he thought bitterly, groaning as he tried to sit up. His muscles arched with pain and disuse. Wonder how long I’ve been here. He managed to pull himself upright on the edge of the bed; wracking his brain to recall the sequence of events had landed him here.

 

Well there was the demon. A weird blue man with a knife. Then something big and red and a whole universe of pain. From somewhere from the back of his memory he got an image of a dark-haired young man and words of sympathy and kindness.

 

Well at least they’d left me my clothing he thought, lifting his sweater and vest from the neatly folded pile on the table. He dressed carefully mindful of his bandaged ribs and was pulling on his boot when the door opened.

 

He rocked back on his heels, ready to spring as the dark-haired man entered, Van Helsing’s field pack slung over one shoulder and the damaged crossbow in his hands. John nearly dropped it when he saw Van Helsing but managed to catch it just in time.

 

“You’re awake!” John squeaked in surprise. “How do you feel?” He laid the bow and bag carefully on the table, suddenly aware of the Hunter’s defensive stance.

 

“I’ve been better.” Van Helsing replied warily.

 

John mustered his friendliest smile and held out his hand. “John. John T. Myers.”

 

Van Helsing made no effort to shake the proffered hand, instead reaching for his pack and rifling though it, checking that everything was still there. He almost sighed with relief as his fingers closed round the object he’d been searching for. A little silver box shaped like a reliquary. He drew it out, savouring the comforting weight of it in his hand. He’d been in such haste to head off the demon; he’d left it at the church. Aware of John’s gaze he hurriedly clipped it to the chain hanging from his vest. “Where did you get my things from?” He growled refusing to meet the young man’s eyes.

 

“Father Mathew. He’s very worried about you.” He observed the Hunter carefully, watching for a reaction. “I…took the liberty of organising some friends to help him clean up the church. He said you offered but you’ve been out for a while.”

 

Impressed by the young man’s thoughtfulness, he nodded his thanks. “How long?”

 

“Nearly a month I’m afraid. You took quite a battering! I arranged for you to be brought here for medical treatment.”

 

The young man had his full attention now. “And where is here precisely?”

 

John smiled. Van Helsing’s interest was a good sign. “The Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defence. We’re a lot like your Order in many ways.”

 

“You know about the Order?” Van Helsing was suddenly wary again.

 

John nodded, carefully keeping both his tone and body language neutral. “Father Mathew apprised them of your situation and they have collaborated with us in your care.” Even John knew it didn’t make much sense but it seemed to satisfy the tall Hunter.

 

Van Helsing relaxed slightly. If the Order were involved it was above his head anyway. Although he would undoubtedly get the ‘maintenance of secrecy’ lecture when he got back to Rome. Again. He reached for the bow examining it carefully, remembering the nasty shudder the failing firing mechanism made as he fired.

 

“I hope you don’t mind but I gave it a quick looking over myself.” John started carefully, mindful of Van Helsing’s reactions. “I spoke with the Vatican and they’ve offered to send me copies of the original designs. I think I can repair it for you.” 

 

The tall man said nothing for long moments, turning the bow over and over in his hands almost reverently.

 

“The mechanisms are incredibly complex.” John said softly, risking a step closer the Van Helsing. “He must have been a genius.”

 

Van Helsing’s hand shook violently as he put down the bow. It hurt beyond words to think about Carl. He bit his lip, fighting back the tears. He felt John’s hand on his arm. He looked into the young man’s eyes for the first time. Darker than Carl’s but in them he saw the same warm kindness. The same pureness of heart. He pulled away, overwhelmed by heartache. He turned his back on John, drawing deep breaths in an effort to regain his composure.

 

John saw the hurt in the Hunter’s eyes and reached out to touch him. He wanted so badly to comfort the man. To show him he was not alone but Van Helsing pulled away. Not however in anger as John feared but in grief and despair.

 

After a minute Van Helsing turned back to John. “So?” he asked as casually as he could manage. “What exactly hit me?”

 

“Ah. That’s going to take some explaining. You better come with me.”

 

8 ***

 

The introductions and explanations seemed to go…okay. Kind of. Van Helsing took the strangeness of the team in his stride. He was polite to Liz and apologetic to Abe. Thanking him for his assistance with the demon and repeating how sorry he was to have caused Abe any discomfort. But it was painfully clear that he and Hellboy rubbed each other up the wrong way. John sat back and let Abe and Liz lead the conversation, leaving him watching the sparks as the two powerful warriors grated. Trying to outdo each other as they discussed the monsters they’d faced. More than once John saw Abe grimace as Hellboy exaggerated and on at least one occasion, lied outright.

 

Only Liz’s throaty laughter called a halt to the testosterone fest. “I’m sorry.” She chuckled, resting her chin in her hands. “You both remind me of a pair of tom cats. Fluffing yourselves up to look big.”

 

Both hunters calmed down a bit but Hellboy, feeling a bit miffed at being laughed at by Liz made an excuse and left. Liz rolled her eyes. “He just a bit touchy sometimes. He really is sorry he hurt you Mr Van Helsing. He’s just…”

 

“Loathed to admit it.” Abe finished.

 

“Don’t be too hard on him. He thought you’d hurt Blue. You might react the same if you someone you care for was in danger.” Liz said heading for the door. “Better go sort him out before he breaks something.” And with a dazzling smile she was gone.

 

John felt a twinge of sympathy as a cloud of pain crossed Van Helsing’s face at the mention of a friend in danger.

 

Clearly Abe felt it too and he was swift to change the subject. “How long will you be staying Mr Van Helsing?”

 

The Hunter shifted uncomfortable. “I really haven’t given it any thought. I should get back to St Bartholomew and check in with the Order. There may be other missions awaiting my attention.” There seemed to be something on his mind he was unwilling to say. “Mr Myers has offered to make repairs to my weapons…”

 

John laid his hand on Van Helsing’s sleeve. “Please. Call me John.” The kindness in his voice made Van Helsing ache. It seemed like an age since he had felt such warmth. After Carl’s death everyone had been…nice but careful. Treating him like some unexploded weapon that might go off at any second. He took every mission available just to get away from the cautious looks and conversations that stopped when he entered the room. He pulled away from human contact, taking the most dangerous missions; part of him secretly hoped each one would be his last.

 

“If you want to go to the church – I’d be happy to drive you. I was hoping to go over there tonight to help with the clean up effort. ” John said, his thumb absent mindedly stroking the leather of his duster.

 

Van Helsing looked down at the young man’s hand then into the dark eyes. He wanted very much to squeeze John’s warm hand, to show him how much his kindness meant but something held him back. “I’d…like that.” He stuttered, slightly shaken. “Thank you.”

 

9 ***

 

St Bartholomew was a hive of activity. John was the sort of person who made friends easily and plenty of them had been more than happy help out. Men, woman and kids worked together to right the pews, clean the floors, scrub off graffiti and chase the bats out of the bell tower. Most of them called out to John by name. The near-sighted little priest came tottering towards him. “Oh bless you lad! It’s nothing short of a miracle.”

 

John smiled modestly, “I’m just glad I could help.”

 

Father Mathew suddenly spotted Van Helsing, looming tall at John’s shoulder. “Oh forgive me my Lord.” He gave the Hunter a deep deferential bow. “You’ll want to rest Sir. Let me just sort out…”

 

“Thank you Father but no. I just need to contact Rome.”

 

“Of course, of course. This way Sir.” It seemed to John that, despite all his fond remembrances, the priest was in awe of the powerfully tall Hunter. Perhaps even a little afraid.

 

Van Helsing glanced over his shoulder at John who smiled. “I’m going to go grab a broom and lend a hand.” But to himself he thought: it’s alright. I’ll be here when you come back.

 

The clean up was going surprisingly well. John grabbed a brush and bucket and set in to tackle the grimy stone floor. The work was messy, hands on and social, giving John a chance to chat. Working for a government funded spook-show didn’t give you much opportunity to catch up on the latest gossip.

 

Around midnight things started to wrap up. The church looked good as new. One of John’s old FBI buddies had contacts in the clergy. He’d had arranged new vestments and altar decorations. Candles decorated the window sills and the pews were now upright, straight and gleamed with polish and here and there, the occasional sleeping child. John shook hands and hugged friends and strangers alike as they left, thanking each of them for their help. He closed the door after the last of them, leaning on the heavy wood with a sigh, surveying their handiwork.

 

Van Helsing detached himself from the shadows. “Impressive. You’ve made Father Mathew very happy.”

 

John’s smile was radiant. “It’s nice to be able to help. I’m just glad we got it all done.” They walked side by side to the car. “So what did Rome say? Do you need to leave immediately?”

 

He lent on the car at John’s side. “No. There are no urgent missions so they’ve cleared me to rest for a while before I go back.” It was partly a lie. There were a few missions available but none of them urgent. Normal he would have taken one and left without another word but something made him hesitate.

 

“Would you like me to collect your things for you? You’re welcome to stay at the Bureau of course but if you’d be more comfortable here I understand.”

 

 “I think I should give Father Mathew some space to enjoy his newly resurrected church.” Van Helsing replied smiling. “He’s a bit overwhelmed by it all.”

 

John chucked and held open the door for him but hesitated. “Do you mind if we drop past my place. I smell like wood polish and lemony freshness.”

 

The Hunter nodded as he climbed into the car, trying hard not to think about how John’s smelt. Van Helsing was finding the young man’s scent of musk and sweat strangely distracting.

 

John’s apartment was small and neat, subscribing to the ‘book-case eccentric’ style of decoration. “I thought you lived at the Bureau?” Van Helsing asked, surveying the living space.

 

“I do but they prefer us to have somewhere else to go. In case anything happens. I come here most weekends.” He shucked his t-shirt, wrinkling his nose at the smell. “I’m just going to jump into a shower. Make yourself at home.”

 

“May I?” he asked pointing to the CD player. A reply of “be my guest” floated down the hallway.

 

Van Helsing shed his heavy duster and investigated the shelves. Jazz, Blues and strangely; Icelandic pop. He pulled out an old Ella Fitzgerald album and put it on low.

 

The bookshelves revealed mainly trashy detective novels and heavy textbooks on hostage negotiation. The walls held framed kid’s pictures, all primary colours and stick figures, each one signed with ‘To Uncle John’ in big round letters.

 

Van Helsing gave up his investigation and fell into the couch. Oh Carl. He thought eyes closed. You’d really like him. Without thinking he unhooked the tiny box from his vest and rubbed it between his fingers, relishing the cool surface, worn smooth for years of handling.

 

John lent on the doorframe letting the seductively low music wash over him. Dressed in a comfy t-shirt and light, loose pants, he padded silently across the thick carpet, crouching at Van Helsing’s side. “Cry Me A River. Always been my favourite.” He slid his hands over the Hunter’s, sharing his warmth.

 

“Carl would have loved the Blues.” He whispered, rubbing his thumb over the surface of the little reliquary.

 

John shifted onto the couch at his side. Van Helsing could feel the young man’s body heat radiating through his clothes.

 

“May I see?” John asked, entwining his fingers with Van Helsing’s. The Hunter eased open the clasp. The little box contained a tiny lock of golden hair and a simple silver cross. The locket-like lid held a miniature portrait of a young man with windswept blond hair and the smile of a mischievous saint. Carl. “He’s very beautiful.” He said softly.

 

Tears gathered in Van Helsing’s eye as he closed the box and stowed it in a pocket. John reached out to brush them away, stroking the Hunter’s face gently. Van Helsing inclosed John’s hand in his and brought it to his lips, savouring the young man’s taste and warmth. He closed his eyes relishing the feeling of skin against skin but it was too much. He pulled away suddenly and made for the door.

 

John’s hand was on his shoulder. “Van Helsing. Please don’t go.”

 

He stopped but didn’t turn. “I’m sorry John. I can’t…it’s too hard. I’m sorry.”

 

John stepped round him, forcing the hunter to face him. “I don’t want to replace Carl. I can’t but I don’t believe he would want you to suffer like this. He would want you to live.” It was going too far but he couldn’t go back now. “He will never forgive you Van Helsing because there’s nothing to forgive. He never blamed you.” And he reached out to kiss Van Helsing.

 

They moved slowly and without words, explore each other with gentle hands and warm kisses. With the surety of travellers returning home, they touched, breathing their need into each other’s mouths. Lost in the fervour they cry each others name into the night, spiralling together in their release.

 

Absolved.

 

Exonerated.

 

Forgiven.