Facilis Descensus Averno
by Charis
Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Based off the manga.
Notes: This is primarily a teaser; I have no idea how long it'll take me to finish this fic, nor even precisely where it's headed. This is, however, an effort at writing a longer (read: multichaptered) fic, in the hopes that maybe then I can go back to writing one-shots in peace. -P I blame my friend Loki for this one, though it's partly being written because I was never quite happy with the ending to "Helianthus".
Again: there is no set timeline for when any of this will come out, except sporadically. I go to school full-time and I work on top of that, so I make no promises.
Prologue: the Road to Heaven
Don't you see yon broad, broad road
Lying lies across the lily leaven?
That is the road to wickedness
Though some call it the road to heaven.
- Traditional, "Thomas the Rhymer"
The taste of failure was bitter on her lips; or perhaps that was the blood which bubbled up with each laboured breath. She didn't even know why she was bleeding, why it hurt so much, though she dimly recalled the loud crack of a gunshot and collapsing. It was too much effort to move, even to feel whether the bullet had in fact hit her. A part of her analysed it clinically (punctured and collapsed lung, possibly grazed the heart, likely hit the spinal column, given that she could barely feel her limbs), but most of her attention focussed around her. The gunshots had quieted, except for the occasional burst; the battle was almost over. Even if they had won, she had still failed: Hellsing was in shambles, and with her dead, who would keep the vampire in check? But she kept her eyes open and looked around as best she could, though her vision blurred and darkened at the edges, and tried to figure out what had come.
Red hazed her vision, but not blood, though he was stained with it. Alucard knelt before her, head bowed; he had lost his hat somewhere in the fight, and his hair was a shadow against the crimson of his coat, blending with the darkness that seemed to film everything she saw. "Your orders," he murmured, "my Master."
"A - lu -" It was hard to speak; each syllable was stained with her blood, forced past the thickness that clotted her throat. At least it did not hurt - none of this really hurt, somehow, and that should have been strange.
His eyes glittered as he lifted his gaze to hers. She was vaguely aware that she should be worried by that, but it took too much effort. "You are dying," he said, with something like wonder in his voice - wonder and a little fascination. "Surely, Master, you don't want to die."
'Don't be an idiot!' she snapped, and though it was only a thought, he heard it and laughed, threw back his head and roared with amusement. Aggravation made adrenaline surge through her veins, brought enough energy to push herself up - oh God, so weakly - and glare at him. "Servant -" Two syllables, easier than his name.
He sobered before she could go on, with an alacrity which surprised her. "A thousand pardons, my Master," he said, and there was only a hint of the expected sarcasm in the words. "Rest now. I will attend to everything."
She wanted to protest. She should be protesting, really. But that adrenaline had lasted only a fraction of an instant, and once more incredibly weary, she acceded and lay back. As her eyes drifted closed, she was aware only of Alucard's hand, so cold even through the glove's fabric, pushing bloodied hair back from her face - and then, only darkness.