Disclaimer: Hellsing and all other associated copyrights owned by Kouta Hirano, Genon, et al. Should any one of these parties wish it, I will remove this story at once.
There would always be a distance between them.
He, with his coffin, she with the light above. Equal and opposite. Varying and same. Bound by the threads of death and calling.
A measure of strength for both. The memory of the past gave her drive, his a trial. Paternal oaths sworn before their births had laid down the paths they walked. Blood and iron lined that horror stricken way, both forged in the crucible.
Hope burned bright in the two. Hope for what could not be, for peace in mind. Belief that the Wrongs could be erased and the would Rules fade. Faith for an intangible something. An expectation of the impossible.
Need in equal parts. Of what must be suppressed, and a longing that could never be filled. Thoughts and feelings had to be sealed away, their roles would accept nothing else. Anticipation had since cooled and stilled to patience. Either waiting for the other.
He in pain, and her with resilience. Time had marked both. In the ages and the moments each bore the weight of sacrifice, of command. Grains of cold decisions had fallen upon them. One to climb above, the other to be buried beneath the rising earth.
There would always be a distance.