I finished it! I can't believe it's finally finished. I feel just a little sad...

This chapter is dedicated to everyone who has reviewed this story, and in particular to AtticusBlackwolf, for reviewing every chapter without fail. Thank you, you are amazing! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Trinity Blood.

Chapter 7

"...great. Just great." Was Ester's first thought on regaining consciousness. "Last time I woke up, I was imprisoned in an underground cell with Dietrich outside waiting to kill me. Somehow I doubt this time will be any better. Wait- maybe I'm already dead. Then... why does my body hurt so much?"

She opened her eyes slowly, dreading what she was about to see. For a moment, she wondered if she really was dreaming and her eyes were still closed, since she still couldn't see a thing. Her head spun wildly and her throat ached as if someone had tried to strangle her, and had just about succeeded. From what she could remember, it was probably true. She lay there frozen, as sounds of a nearby battle filtered through her dazed mind. Just as they became unbearably loud and she almost leapt to her feet; despite knowing that her safest bet was to lie still and play dead, at least until the dizziness wore off a little, they stopped. The dread silence lasted for a few seconds, then the voices started. The sounds were blurred and she couldn't make out who they were or what they were saying. They seemed occupied though, and she took the opportunity to try moving her fingers. They responded slowly and the movement sent a fresh wave of dizziness through her, so she stopped and tried once more to decipher the voices.

One she thought was Dietrich's, raised in... fear? Anger? Something else? It was hard to tell. There was another voice she didn't recognise. Then she heard it. That beloved voice she never thought she'd hear again. Abel.

Ester forced away her dizziness and rolled to face the direction where the voices were coming from. It immediately became clear why she had been unable to see anything before; she'd been facing a stone wall. Now she could see out over the moonlit courtyard of a ruined castle, rubble spread everywhere and some of it (she suspected) newly destroyed. She herself was lying on a ledge about 20 feet above the ground. Below stood Abel facing down Dietrich. In between them stood another man she didn't know, with the longest black hair she'd ever seen. Ester felt her heart swell with joy. Abel had come to save her! Perhaps he did love her after all. She just had to let him know she was there. If only she could call out to him! But her throat was dry and sore and when she tried to speak all that came out was a gasped whisper.

Placing her hands on the stone ledge, Ester attempted to push herself into a sitting position. It failed dismally and she collapsed again with a small whimper of pain. It seemed that Abel had seen or heard her after all though, since she heard the rush of wings as he flew up and landed beside her. He was in his battle form, when his hair flew out of control, he grew wings and his eyes went red. (She'd seen it before in Istvan, but never actually asked him about it. She didn't even know if he knew she'd seen him) He looked at her with eyes full of concern but didn't touch her.

"Ester? It's just me. Don't be afraid. How do you feel? How is your throat?"

She tried to answer him, tried to tell him that she would never be afraid when he was there, and that her throat was sore but she would be just fine, but she couldn't form the words. Her throat closed up and all that came out was a faint whisper of air. She began to cough, and though it was weak it felt intensely painful. Abel shushed her gently.

"It's ok. Don't try to talk. I'm going to take you back to the Vatican now. The healers will be able to help you. Just relax, ok?"

She nodded, and as he picked her up and let his wings carry them both into the sky, she tried to hang on to consciousness as it threatened to slip away from her. She'd always wondered what it would be like to fly. But her exhausted body betrayed her and she fell into a deep sleep. Her last thought was how soft Abel's hair felt as it fell across her cheek.

Isaak watched the pair vanish into the night sky with more than a little sense of relief. A pitched battle was not really on his list of top ten things to do with the rest of the night- or what was left of it. The faint glimmer of red on the horizon gave rise to that last thought, and carried with it the desire to return to the Rosencreutz headquarters.

A faint gasp behind him caused him to turn sharply, and find Dietrich swaying on his feet, blood dripping down his arm and trickling from the many small cuts on his ashen face. He seemed to fall in slow motion, crumpling to the ground with a small cry of pain. The sound snapped Isaak out of his motionless state and the mage darted forward, easing Dietrich off the ground and cradling the boy in his arms. A quick examination of the wounded arm revealed a nasty bullet shot that would swiftly become infected if it were not cleaned and treated soon. Dietrich was unconscious but obviously in pain; his breathing was laboured and his skin was clammy. Isaak straightened up with the young man still in his arms. He had to get Dietrich back to the headquarters so he could treat the boy properly in his rooms, where he kept all his medical supplies. The magic came easily to his call, swirling around him and transporting the pair of them back to the city, to the Rosencreutz headquarters.

The Vatican's halls were deserted, the corridors silent and even the guards who patrolled the perimeter did so with solemn faces and heavy hearts. Everywhere the evidence of the Rosencreutz attack was evident; the broken walls, the beautiful gardens covered in rubble and the occasional body of a vampire lying torn and bloodied on the ground. Caterina had ordered that all of the Vatican's fallen should be recovered and placed in the crypt to be prepared for burial, but the fallen enemy could wait until the morning, when everyone had had some rest.

No one would have thought that, just hours before, the place had been swarming with diplomats, politicians, the Inquisition Squad, the AX and anybody who was anybody, all wanting to know what had happened and what somebody was going to do about it. Three parties emerged from the chaos. The first, headed by Cardinal Francesco, believed that the Empire was responsible, that war should be declared and that every vampire should be slaughtered on sight. The second, lead by Cardinal Caterina, pointed out inconsistencies in the Empire theory, insisted that the Empire would be their best ally in such a situation and demanded that other groups (specifically Rosencreutz) should be named responsible. The third group was mainly composed of diplomats and centre politicians who didn't really want to give an opinion (this group also included the young Pope) and wanted emissaries sent to the Empire to ask for an explanation while they waited to see what would happen next.

A solution was still far from being reached by the time the council was declared over for the night, and the only thing that had been decided on was that an emissary would indeed be sent to the Empire at first light.

Nobody expected to get any rest that night, but the trauma of battle and proceeding dramas had exhausted them all, and not many people even remembered placing their heads on their pillows.

And so almost every inhabitant of the Vatican was sleeping when Abel returned bearing Ester, and although Caterina was still awake in her office, only one person heard his approach.

Seth almost leaped out of her chair the second she heard sounds of movement from outside the window. Sure enough, Abel stood below her, clutching a slight figure in his arms, hastily folding away his wings in case any of the inquisition squad happened to be prowling about. He was right to worry, she thought grimly. The Vatican was about to hit a new peak in vampire hatred.

She opened the window and hissed at him.

"Abel! Over here!"

He hurried over to her. "Seth!" He lifted Ester up and made to pass her over the window sill. "Take her!"

Seth gripped the girl's shoulders and eased her gently over the sill, lowering her to the ground as Abel clambered over in her wake. Seth took in their dusty, bedraggled state and scratched faces with dismay.

"What happened to you two?'

"We had a run-in with Rosencreutz," He told her grimly. "I don't suppose you've met a young man called Dietrich before?"

"I'm afraid I haven't had that pleasure..."

"Consider yourself fortunate, little sister, is all I'll say."

She nodded, thinking to herself that fortune hadn't favoured her very much during her visit to the Vatican. Would Caterina be able to stave off the war that seemed increasingly likely with every word that came from Brother Francesco's mouth? Would Cain finally finish what they'd started so many years ago? All her work- centuries of effort- all for nothing? But no. Despair was not an option. She still had Abel. Things would work out. They had to.

Abel watched his little sister lose herself in thought, and felt himself overcome with sadness. If only he'd brought himself to do something, she wouldn't have had to take on such a huge burden. And Lilith. Lilith, who died, whom Cain had murdered because he knew it would hurt Abel. He never wanted to see that happen to Ester.

Seth caught the direction of his gaze and guessed his thoughts. "You can't hide your feelings forever, just because you think it will protect her, you know. It's not fair to her, or yourself. Ester wants to fight. More importantly, she wants to fight for you. She's a strong young woman. She can survive. She has already survived a great deal."

Lifting his gaze slowly, Abel sighed. But a spark of hope was flickering in his eyes as he carried Ester through the door and down the hallway, followed by his sister.

When Dietrich woke up, he was lying in his bed back at the Rosencreutz headquarters. In a chair on his right sat Isaak, who was smoking absentmindedly and appeared to be examining the ceiling in minute detail. The smell of dusty smoke assaulted him and he scowled at the offending cigarette, but decided that now wasn't the best time to engage in an argument over that particular habit.

The mage turned to look at him when he sat up, and in an unusual display of consideration crushed the tip of his cigarette in his fingers and let it fall to the floor. An awkward silence stretched between them, both unsure of what to say. Finally Isaak broke it.

"How do you feel?"

Dietrich, who had been expecting (at the very least) a tirade of fury and disappointment, was considerably surprised and even more relieved at the mage's quiet tone of voice.

"...Alright, I guess." He flexed his fingers and stretched his arms a little. Nothing seemed to hurt very much. "Did you heal me?"

"Hmmm."

Dietrich figured that was all the answer he was going to get. "Well- thanks then."

"What did you think you were doing?" The question wasn't malevolent. It didn't even sound interested. It was just flat.

"..I don't know... I just.. I.." He couldn't find the words. He didn't even know what he wanted to say. "I was just trying to.."

The mage just stared at him silently.

"But..." Dietrich hid his face in his hands. "I failed. Badly. This has got to be my biggest mistake yet."

Isaak's face was unreadable, but his voice was gentle. "A mistake is simply another way of doing things."

Dietrich glared daggers at him. Lots of evil daggers. "Enough with the stupid quotes, Isaak. I'm not in the mood for them."

"He who angers you conquers you, my dear."

"But you already di... Damn you, Isaak, stop doing that!" Dietrich leapt off the bed and flew at him with fists clenched. Isaak, who had already stood up, caught them easily and twisted the boy's arms behind his back, holding him tightly.

"No man can think clearly when his fists are clenched." Isaak grinned at him now, openly mocking. "But seriously, my love, you should calm down."

The young man turned his head away, trying not to be distracted by the arms around him.

"Don't call me that."

Isaak frowned in confusion. "Don't call you what?"

The answer was grudging and barely audible.

"My love."

Isaak chuckled and stroked the boy's cheek with one finger. "But you are."

Furious and terrified at the same time, Dietrich wrenched himself out of his lover's arms and fled to the other side of the room. "Liar! Shut up!"

"Dietrich..." Isaak stared at him, just starting to understand to what the issue was. "Of course I.." he hesitated, slightly embarrassed, "of course I'm in love with you. I thought you knew that."

Dietrich sat down sharply, perched on the edge of his bed, arms curled tightly around his chest and knees pulled up in front of him. He let his head fall against them.

"You thought wrong."

"Is this because I wouldn't take you to the festival?"

"No!" Dietrich was angry again. "Why can't you take me seriously for once? Why can't you tell me the truth?"

"But I am."

Isaak had always been a master of keeping calm when everyone else was losing it. Dietrich both loved and hated him for it. In situations like this, he definitely hated it.

"You can't be in love with me! It doesn't make sense!" he cried, tears spilling down his face. "You can't love anyone. You've said it yourself, remember?"

Isaak sighed, half amused and half offended. "That was a long time ago. Things change."

He came over to the bed and sat down beside the boy, lifting his hand but hesitating to touch him again. "Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love, Dietrich. It's not supposed to make sense."

The young man looked up at him almost shyly with an expression speaking of a hope that was afraid it would be swiftly crushed. He spoke slowly, carefully, never taking his eyes of Isaak's face.

"You're.. not.. mad.. are you?"

The mage smiled and brought his hand up to stroke the boy's cheek comfortingly.

"Maybe. But love without madness is not love."

Recognising yet another quote (Calderon if he wasn't mistaken), Dietrich scowled and opened his mouth remind the man exactly what he thought of it, but Isaak took the opportunity to lean over and kiss him. Clasping one hand behind Dietrich's head to trap him, he slipped his tongue into the boy's open mouth, pushing him back onto the bed. And after a short, indignant but ineffectual struggle, Dietrich let him.

Caterina stood in the archway that lead from the inner citadel into the sunlit gardens that had been restored beautifully by the Vatican's gardeners. Beyond she could see Father Abel standing amidst the grass and flowers, staring up into the sky.

A slim figure brushed past her, concentrating too much upon its target to even notice the Cardinal standing silently by the garden entrance. Caterina watched as Ester approached cautiously, timid but determined. She noticed how the soft sound of the girl's voice, attempting to express gratitude, made Abel start and turn, then hold out his hand.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and then Seth appeared beside her. "Good morning, Lady Caterina."

"Good morning, Seth. Was it your words of wisdom that got through to Abel?"

Seth shot her a surprised glance. "You don't mind?"

"Why should I?"

The other shrugged, almost ruefully. "I had this idea that the Vatican was against - um, relationships- and all that stuff."

Caterina laughed softly. "My father was the Pope."

"True. Of course."

The Cardinal took one last glance at the couple standing together in the garden and smiled before turning away and leading them back into the hallway.

"Besides, where there is great love, there will always be miracles."

Meanwhile, seated in an ornate gilded chair with his hands folded in front of him, Cain meditated in satisfaction on the success of his recent operation. Helga, standing by a window boasting a mediocre view of the Corso di Francia, was less impressed, and was making no secret of her anger, or of exactly whom she believed was to blame.

"My lord, if only von Kaempfer had done as he was ordered to, instead of trying to second guess your commands, we could have completely overwhelmed the Vatican's forces! If we could have attacked earlier, we would have had maximum advantage of surprise! If only.."

Cain interrupted her without thought. "My dear, you forget. My lovely sister was also present, along with the best of her own forces. You would have been driven back eventually. No, I have achieved what I set out to do- something much more subtle, but with much further reaching effects. I have no desire for the world's powers to recognise me as a threat and combine their efforts to defeat me. I want the Vatican and the Empire to destroy each other first."

Helga frowned. "But my lord, the Empress herself was present. She will know that it was a trick."

"True. But I sincerely doubt that her visit to the Vatican was official, or that if her presence had been known a great many people would not have been very much distressed. In other words, the fact that it could not have been her cannot be disclosed by those responsible for her presence.

And thus the Vatican will accuse the Empire of the attack. Who knows, they may even declare war. And even if they do not, all it will take is another spark- perhaps a stealth attack on the Empire from the Vatican Inquisition Squad- and the sparks will ignite into a blaze that will not stop until it has eliminated everything through which it burns.

Then, my dear, and only then, will I officially make my presence known. I shall be the saviour of the world, come to rescue it from the darkness and despair of constant war and conflict. I shall recreate the world from fire and my Chosen shall rule."

Helga drew in a deep breath. "You are truly magnificent, my lord."

Cain smiled. "I am, aren't I."

He glanced around, and suddenly frowned.

"Where is Isaak?"

She sniffed in disgust.

"I believe he went to the Villa Borgese gardens, my lord. With Dietrich."

A speculative gleam came into Cain's eye, and his smile dripped with malice.

"Did he indeed?"

Walking side by side through beautiful gardens and sparkling waterfalls, Dietrich glanced up at his lover, struck by a sudden thought.

"Hey Isaak?"

"Yeah?"

"What was Cain up to here, anyway? What was that grand plan you were working on?"

Isaak gazed down at him for a moment before answering, a slight smile touching his face.

"I don't know. And I honestly don't care."

Somewhere in the distance the last words of a melody floated through the quiet air. Singer and origin lost to time, with a meaning that would never fade.

So tell that someone that you love

Just what you're thinking of

If Tomorrow Never Comes

The End