otherways OOM - Rome, Italy - 1997 (August)

[i_vanquish_evil]

A visit to the Cardinal

Michael stalks down the corridor, bootheels reverberating sound along its length, only ceasing when he stops before the heavy pair of doors to the Cardinal's chambers. He doesn't knock, he just throws the doors open and stomps through, ignoring the fact that his boots make no sound on the plush carpet. The hostile air around him should be enough to rattle anyone in his presence; he doesn't need to make noise.

"Michael!" the Cardinal shouts, angry. "Is that necessary?"

He ignores the question, but snaps a retort: "I'm not Michael. My name is Van Helsing. Gabriel Van Helsing." There's a small voice in the back of his head, telling him to keep his cool. It sounds a bit like Carl.

Calmly, the Cardinal turns to fully face him. The look in de Clerque's eyes is almost frightening. "Actually, you're not."

That sucks like life out of his argument. He narrows his eyes. "What?"

"You're not. You're not Gabriel Van Helsing."

"Then who am I?" He narrows his eyes more; almost growling at the Cardinal.

De Clerque turns and crosses to the window, pushing the curtain aside to peer out at the street below. "You are a knight of the Holy Order. You are given a name for identification purposes only. Beyond that," he lets the curtain fall as he turns back to Michael, "you do not exist."

He scowls. "That's not what Cardinal Jinette told me."

"Jinette was a fool. Allowing you to perform as you pleased. Do what you liked." The Cardinal snorts. "That will soon change. You work for the Order. You will do as you are told."

"Who are you? My father? This is a job de Clerque - not that you pay me. This is not a requirement for my life!"

The Cardinal's eyes are eerily calm as he looks on Michael. "Would you care to test that theory?"

A long pause stretches between the two men. The silence more like a tension line ready to snap than a moment of calm.

De Clerque speaks again, voice even, "You are a part of the Order. If you leave, you will never find that which you seek."

"What if I don't want it anymore?" Michael snarls, ready to pounce.

The Cardinal remains calm. "Do not fool yourself into thinking you are free. The Order is as much a part of you as you are of the Order. You may leave. I cannot stop you. But you will carry it with you. It will follow you. It will always be there."

Michael shrugs. "I don't care. I'm done. I'm tired of being told how to live and where to go and who to love. I'm done. You can have the apartment in Venice. I'll find someplace else to go." He turns and starts for the door.

"What about Dracula?"

He stops, peers over his shoulder at the Cardinal. "He's dead. I killed him over 100 years ago."

"Perhaps."

"What do you know?" he demands.

"Apparently more than you," the Cardinal returns, not smug, but matter-of-fact. "Dracula, is alive... so-to-speak."

"I don't believe you." Eyes narrow, he is ready to walk out and never return - after throwing the Cardinal out the window.

"He's in a castle in the Carpathians. Go look for yourself."

Michael growls - actually growls. "Now I know you're full of shit. I'm gone." He stalks out of the Cardinal's chambers and down the corridor, feet hitting the tile hard.

Dracula's alive, my ass. If he was truly alive and wanting revenge, he would fine me. He would find a way.

******

Michael has his own apartment, but a room is kept for him at the Vatican too. He collects the few items he keeps there, stopping to caress the faded leather cover of the book Carl had left for him. He wants to carry it with him, but the agreement he had made with Carl tickles the back of his brain...

"Promise me, Gabriel. Promise me this will remain here, in this room, so there is always a part of you here. Something to come back to. Something that makes this small space yours."

He would take it, because he doesn't want to leave any part of himself behind in this place, but he had promised Carl and part of Carl was still here too.

A single tear slides from his cheek to the book. He presses his fingertips to his lips, then the book, before hefting the leather bag onto his shoulder. He stops at the door, turning back for only a moment, and whispers, "It stays only for you, Carl." Then he's gone.