The sky was a steely grey, and likewise the water. The wind was just shy of bitter and it whipped the surface of the lake into little peaks and troughs as the bulging bellies of the clouds overhead seemed to swell and swell with the threat of rain.

Integra shuddered and hunched down further into her oversized jacket. She held a fishing pole in one hand, with the other shoved deep into her pocket. Beside her was a pail full of worms newly liberated from the Scottish mud and beside that, Walter, impervious to the cold as always in his vest and shirtsleeves. He hummed a little tune to himself as he impaled another worm on a hook and stood to cast the line into the water.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Stuck in the guesthouse, waiting to liaise with the local police, she'd looked at the immortal pile of paperwork that followed her around and discovered that duty had its limits after all. She had decided that just this once, she wasn't going to work. Just this once, she was going to do something completely unproductive like read a book for the sheer pleasure of it, or listen to music, or watch television. But the guesthouse didn't have television, the radio was broken and the only things to read were magazines that offered sugary-sweet advice on romance and far too many details of the private lives of people Integra couldn't have cared less about. Within an hour she was bored out of her mind, and the paperwork seemed the only alternative to complete inaction. She had gone to the deserted little bar looking for something to drink that wasn't warm beer and she had happened to glance up and observe the oversized fish mounted over the bar, presiding over the room with a dust-dulled eye.

So one thing led to another and she found herself marching towards the lake complete with rod, reel, box of lethal hooks and bucket of bait. She'd plunked herself down on the edge of the jetty and spent an entertaining half-hour trying to bait a hook whilst wearing heavy winter gloves. She'd just thrown the line in the water when she had heard nothing break the silence; a fairly good indication that either Walter or Alucard was standing behind her, as neither were in the habit of making noise when they moved and since it was daylight…

"Is it time to go?" she asked without turning around.

"Not at all, my lady," replied Walter, and hesitated. She'd frowned and craned her neck to see him. He actually looked uncomfortable standing there and then he had said, very politely, "may I join you?"

She had blinked and then there had been this uncomfortable silence stretching between them. She'd thought about it, how nice it was to be alone with the grey sky and grey water and a bucket full of worms, wearing oversized clothes that didn't look in the least bit professional, and no paperwork or patronising vampires or worse, policemen.

She had said, "didn't you once promise to take me fishing? Years ago. I was just a little girl. Father was still alive."

Walter had smiled. "Yes, my lady."

"You remembered."

"Yes, of course."

There was another long silence. Finally, she had turned back around to look out over the water.

"You'd better get a fishing rod then."

"I already have one," and Integra had heard the smile in his voice.

So Walter had sat beside her, and with the same frightening level of skill and precision that he applied to everything, he'd tied a hook and sinker to the end of his line and drowned a worm with it. After a while he'd started humming.

Integra dangled her legs over the edge of the jetty and eyed the ominous clouds, daring them to open. She could feel the water currents tugging at her line. At least, she assumed it was the water; it could be actual fish for all she knew, but she thought it unlikely since in the end, she'd cast the line without baiting it.

"Walter?"

"Yes, Sir Integra?"

She opened her mouth, then shut it again. After all, what could she say? That it was nice, despite the cold and the clouds and the depressing grey all around, to sit here, harassing blameless fish that they didn't even intend to eat? That it was nice, sitting here with him? That creeping shadows came to her at night and pressed themselves between her legs so that she felt a dozen little mouths suckling her all at once? That she liked it? That she didn't like it? That she was ashamed for her weakness in allowing it?

In the end she said, "nothing," at the same time the end of Walter's rod dipped sharply. He reeled in the line quickly, and reached out over the edge of the jetty to pull up a trout dangling from the hook in its mouth, gills heaving and body thrashing desperately. He was pleased, and held it up to show her.

"A fine size," he said proudly as it fought for its life. "There's good eating on one of these."

"No!" she said sharply.

His smile faltered. "I'm sorry?"

"Throw it back!"

He was too well trained to question her. Without a word he pinned the fish down on the wooden planks and used a pair of pliers from the box to pry the hook from its lip. She watched anxiously as he leaned over the edge of the jetty, and slipped the fish gently back into the water. Its tail moved sluggishly, and it faded into the depths like a dream. She stared at the place it had been for a long time before she looked away.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, looking up. He was smiling like he always did.

"Not at all," he replied cheerfully. He shook the water off the end of his fishing line and stripped what remained of the bait off the hook. He cast it back into the water without putting new bait on.

They sat there together for a long time. After a while it began to rain.

Notes: This is fourth in a very loose series of drabbles called 'Imperfection', but it can be read as a standalone piece. The other two drabbles in this series are stored offsite, at Adult fan fiction dot net. Be warned that they contain adult content, so please read the warnings both before entering the website and reading the drabbles themselves. Studio Gonzo-verse, previously posted on the LJ Bloody Shorts Community