AN: I haven't done Hellsing work in ages, and out of the writing that I have the time to do, this tends to be the more serious. We'll say this one may have a mature block on it later, depending on how far I go with it. First chapter, as always, is short. I'm doing something a little out of my comfort zone, so bare with me. PLEASE REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! IF YOU FAVE, REVIEW!
Anyway, i've never seen Enrico or Integra romantically involved, but this could go both ways. But keep in mind, Enrico is a priest, Integra isn't. This story is almost supposed to kinda analyze why Maxwell's like he is and sorta how it continues, and how Integra comes off as more than a cold hearted b*&tch. So, after the summary, i'll post warnings.
Summary: Through scandal and rape, the Catholic church has captures even it's most finest, Enrico Maxwell being no exception. When business forces Hellsing and Iscariot to cross paths once again, Integra finds herself learning more about Section XIII's leader than she should. Disgusted and considerate, Integra yearns to do something that everyone else has failed to do. Help and heal Enrico Maxwell.
The two sat across from each other, both sitting round a small circular table. Had he been dressed casually, clergy attire absent from his persona, and she dressed in relaxing apparel aside from her tailored suit, than many walking by the outdoor restaurant could have assumed the two to be an item.
But they weren't, and their clothes betrayed the very thought. Thus, onlookers continue to stare, quizical expressions etching their very features.
The single parties ignored this, however. Their means for communication was strictly business, and both intended to keep it that faster the conversation went, the better.
Integra listened on as he spoke, the rich Italian accent infusing with his English. Though she hated the man, she loved his accent. Something about it captivated her, put her on the edge of curiosity.
Being Integra Hellsing, her files were available to everyone and anyone whom had the authority to access them. Her backstory and her history had been accessible to any organization in power, Iscariot being one of them.
But Enrico Maxwell, she knew only what was given to her and only what she could see. His attire shouted he was a priest, his letters to Integra explained his high position in the vatican, leader of Iscariot. However, other than that, he remained an enigma to Integra. An enigma that she yearned to solve.
Perhaps she analyzed him too hard, perhaps she strove to great extremes to "look underneath the underneath"*, but it caught her attention.
The usual neck choking collar was loose, open slightly. Angry and purple, barely noticeable, a large marked crawled up his neck, clawing at the pale skin. It had shocked her at first, the bruise. Question's flooded her head, speculations followed soon after. He was the leader of Iscariot, fighting, she assumed, was necessary to keep in shape. She fenced daily. But then again, her opponents knew better than to strike her in such a way or a place.
This led Integra to the conclusion that that mark was no accident, that it was there for a reason. A unnerving reason.
In the second it took to look at his neck, Integra quickly averted her gaze to her water glass. She was hooked now, and if her investigation stood a chance, she needed to remain on the low side. Peering her eyes up, she looked at his gloved hands, perhaps just between the sleeve and the glove, evidence would present itself.
And it did. As Italian as he was, it took him all of two minutes to stop moving his hands and to place them again, on the table. By that time, the material on his clothing had shifted slightly, however, the purple wasn't as recent, wasn't as new as it had been on his neck. She didn't miss him adjust his collar either, and looking up, she caught a change on those violet eyes. Short and quick, she got the input she needed...Anger, sadness, grief and fear. Alucard had all to well adorned those expressions during the beginning of his imprisonment with Integra, and it took months to mend him into the idiot he was today.
Abuse and neglect had done that to Alucard. Had the same factors contributed to Enrico's snide attitude?
"Hellsing!"
Damnit...she'd been caught staring.
"Sorry, Maxwell," he knew something was wrong, she knew he did, and she knew that he knew that she knew that something was wrong, she wasn't adopting her usual mocking tone, "Just looking at the ice melting."
"What ice?" he responded, looking into her cup completely absent of the blocks.
Sighing, he again placed his hands on the table and forced himself up from his sitting position, a slight shiver erupting through his body.
"Hellsing, if you're not interested in what I have to say, then by all means, let's continue to let our troops destroy each other. When you're ready to act sane, i'll be happy to reschedule the meeting."
Now was her chance.
With the reflexes of a viper, she edged towards his arm as he pushed himself up, grabbing just enough cloth. With a vice grip, she grasped the sleeve, pulling the cloth up as she did so.
She gasped out of shock, he, out of pain.
Purple and blue had stained the pale and tender skin, and she had sworn she's seen a hand print twisting unnaturally into the skin.
He shook with pure anger as he yanked has hand away, turning around, trembling at every step he took away from her. Integra's theory was right, he was subjected to mistreatment of the highest sorst.
"Don't SPEAK to me again HELLSING! MY ASSISTANT WILL HOLD MEETINGS WITH YOU FROM NOW ON," wincing at his words, she attempted to move from her place by the table. However, she was frozen, unable to move. She was disgusted by what she had seen, disgusted by the fact that he was going back to that.
Disgusted by the fact that had he been treated kindly, then perhaps he would not be an asshole.
She wanted to know more, and oddly, she wanted to help. But already, he was a speck in the distance, already, he was gone.
And Integra was alone, left to contemplate on what she'd just discovered.
I'm very weary on the time frame in this story as to when he obtained the marks. Some bruises stay there for ever, some fade. So perhaps it happened when he was a child, or maybe it happened when he got older. That's left up to you.
I saw Thor 2 yesterday. I fell in love with Loki again! Twas sad, twas sad...well anyway, I hoped to continue this. But I have so many other stories to do, not to mention, all the Naruto stories I need to updated. Junior year sucks, and I don't have any time to myself anymore. Oh well, hoped you liked this little drabble. God bless :D