The Naming of Rip Van Winkle
It was chilly flying at 20,000 feet above the Atlantic, and the Nazi doctor wiped cold sweat from his brow with the back of his own gloved hand. How he wished he had at least one of his lab assistants with him, assuming any of them still lived. It was time to break the bad news, as if his superior needed any more of that right now.
"She has sustained severe cranial trauma, Major. Even if I were to revive her, she would have extensive brain damage, including permanent memory loss. I'm not sure there's anything else I can do." He glumly began to replace the surgical tools into a largish doctor's case.
"Oh Herr Dok, have a little more imagination than that," the shorter man chided behind his permanently glued smirk. It had become stretched somewhat painfully in the last few hours, but he never seemed to lose his optimistic temperament. "This must be mere child's play compared to that excellent dinner you cooked but a few hours ago."
The object of their discussion was an unconscious girl lying on a standard military cot set up in the center of the cargo hold, which was currently doubling as a makeshift operating table. Dressed in a drab green uniform she looked to be about twenty, her head turned to one side with two long disheveled braids dangling to the floor on the other. A large patch of hair had been shorn off in the back where a very ugly raised wound was still oozing blood despite the thick stitches holding it together.
The doctor, much more shaken by the events of that day than his companion, held a bent index finger between his front teeth and tried to center himself. Though his mind was usually overtaken by a thousand inspired ideas, right now he could not focus on a single one. The loss of the facility and staff was weighing on him particularly heavily.
"I… I'm just not sure what we're going to do, Sir. Our life's work…"
"Yes, yes, a mere setback but we knew this would eventually happen. But hear me, this is not over. The Hellsing Organization in their arrogance will now think that they have defeated us, once-and-for-all. The boy will see to that. And now we are free, free to continue our work, unheeded until the next opportunity presents itself."
The doctor stood from the low stool he had been operating from and stretched his trembling limbs, which were sore from sitting so long on their flight from Poland. He walked over to where the Major was sitting strapped into a cargo seat.
"I know this has been particularly trying for you, but look on the bright side. We saved your precious Mina, so that you can continue your research." He noted the Doctor twitched at the flippant use of the corpse's name, but said nothing. "We have a pilot and a few soldiers, we have our health…" The Major tittered at this. "And we have this girl too, silly though she may be. When we arrive, do you think you will be able to put her in a freezebox?"
The Doctor grunted an affirmative. "Suspended animation, yes, I should be able to preserve the body easily."
"Then do that. And when we're ready, we will start again, with her."
The chubby man leered at the pale, freckled girl, yellow eyes widening with delight. "Yes, she will be the first of many. But until then, we'll be perfect gentlemen and let her sleep."
The Doctor interjected, "But Major, it could be many years, at this time it's impossible to…"
"A hundred years, Doctor, I don't care!" he responded harshly, teeth clenched behind his perma-smile.
A sudden bit of turbulence shook the cargo area and the girl was jostled partially off the cot, held on by a single strap across her midsection. After steadying himself with a bit of the cargo netting, the doctor stumbled over to put the limp body back into place, this time resting the back of her head onto a stained pillow. Frowning at something only he could read in the girl's expressionless face, he manually took her pulse, then sighing removed one glove to feel her cold forehead, her cold cheek.
"Doktor?"
The Doctor thought a moment, then shook his head. "She may as well be undead at this point, though she is still alive, if only just. Seems she is hanging in there."
"But of course she's hanging on!" the Major replied cheerfully. "She knows how important this day is, the dawn of a new beginning for Millennium. Isn't that right, Lieutenant?" He turned his attention to the bruised face. "Yes, you've made it through this darkest hour, proven yourself a survivor, and as such will be rewarded." He turned his attention back to Herr Doktor, whose expression was unreadable behind his many reflective lenses. "Well, when you wake her up someday and she has to re-learn everything."
The Major began to laugh heartily.
"Major?"
"I was just thinking of Rip Van Winkle, do you know that story, Doktor?"
"O-of course, Major."
"Lieutenant Rip Van Winkle, I think that's what I'll start calling her."
The doctor smiled weakly at this, feeling lighter for the first time since the Hellsing raid that day. His gaze passed over the cargo hold to rest on a Jezail rifle that was propped up against a stack of other hodgepodge items which had been saved from the compound. It was the girl lieutenant's weapon, her favorite thing.
"I'm starting to get a few ideas now, Major." He pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil from his coat pocket.
"Wunderbar! Now let's get to work."
Notes:
This was inspired by a mature work called Forever In a Glass Darkly by AmputeeTrainee. Good stuff there, especially if you enjoy Rip Van Winkle fiction, as I do.
The work is set during Millenniums's escape from Poland to Brazil. Without knowing how Hellsing: The Dawn will end (if it ever gets finished), this fiction assumes that Dok and Major got on a plane immediately along with whatever they could escape with while Walter and Girlycard were pre-occupied with fighting Captain. Since Rip wasn't mentioned by name (that I could find) in The Dawn, I think this can work as an explanation of her getting her unusual name.