If I owned Hellsing, I'd also own Josh Groban. But I don't.
"Oh Marcel, I knew that you'd come back for me!"
"Of course, Olivia, of course. I could never be without you. We are two souls, bound together for life."
"Kiss me, my darling!" Seras watched the couple on the television move in for a kiss as the romantic music swelled to a rousing crescendo. After a moment she sighed softly as the credits began to roll and commercials began to dominate the screen.
"Don't go anywhere," the overly-generic announcer's voice beseeched. "Up next we have A Moment to Live, a Lifetime to Love on our True Love Valentine's Weekend Marathon!" Seras continued to pull the hairbrush through her short bangs as the commercial switched from the movie's credits to an ad for a big Valentine's sale at the local adult emporium.
She put the brush down and turned slightly, catching sight of herself in the mirror bolted onto the wall of her private restroom. She appraised the reflection and the corners of her lips fell into a solemn expression. The girl in the mirror was sprawled at the dusty wooden table, dressed in baggy, lilac-colored pajamas and barefoot. The glowing telly, the only source of light in the room, accented the shadows around her face and turned her eyes from a light into a strange, glowing green-brown color.
Her attention turned back to the screen as the new movie came on, throwing Seras into what seemed to be a village in the midst of a Christmas celebration. After a moment, the title showed up in big, frilly letters on the screen.
Heaving another heartfelt sigh, she clicked the remote and the room went dark. Needing no light other than the small beam coming from the cracked door, she walked with a lead-foot slump to her coffin, languidly groping for the seam that separated the lid of her macabre bed from the base. She found it and threw the lid open, but didn't close it as she climbed inside.
Instead, she lay in the dark and stared up at the ceiling, her mind slowly coming back from the lethargic stupor she'd fallen into while watching the movie marathon. She clasped her hands on her stomach and pushed her head back into the soft downy pillow, the silk pillow having been traded in to Walter for this much more comfortable headrest.
Valentine's Day, she thought to herself. She felt her heart sinking and pulled her arms up slightly to hug herself, trying to keep from falling into a depressive slump. She knew if she did, she'd not want to get out of bed. If she didn't get out of bed, Alucard would be sent to drag her out, and that wasn't fun for anyone except the ancient vampire, who got a kick out of watching his fledgling hoisted into the air by her pajama bottoms in the jaws of a shadowy hellhound familiar.
It wasn't that she hated Valentine's Day. No, as a human she had enjoyed the holiday: buying discount candy and flowers, being doted upon by hopeful suitors in the force, going to clubs and finding potential boyfriends. She had loved the prospects of the most romantic holiday of the year.
But now, all that was gone in a single poof of smoke. Smoke from the barrel of a gun wielded by a crimson-clad psychopath with one foot in Hell and his mind in the gutter. She couldn't eat chocolate anymore; of course, she hadn't tried, but every other attempt with "human" food had left her with a horrible stomachache and a displeased master. And now, no man would look at her twice.
She was still pretty—hell, being a vampire had made her even prettier, in her own slightly vain opinion. Her pale skin suited her now, and she was more physically fit and she even had 20/20 vision! But she was a bloodsucker, the kind of creature that the soldiers of Hellsing Organization dealt with every mission. The only reason she was alive is because she was working for the Organization herself!
When she factored out the men who had wives and girlfriends, there left about half of the soldiers' ranks to choose from. She was the only female, after all, and one would think she would be showered with affection from all sides. However, that was not the case. The men were afraid of her, and some even went out of their way to avoid her. She kept telling herself that it didn't bother her, but every time she saw a captain duck into another hall to avoid passing her she felt the tears prick the back of her eyes. She wasn't supercilious by any means, but she had been used to men at least saying hello to her, much less flirting and treating her right!
The only men who still spoke to her were Alucard, Walter, and Captain Bernadotte. If she was to have any chance of love, or even a Valentine's Day kiss, she would have to choose between the three of them. Turning over to lay onto her stomach, Seras considered those options.
Walter was out of the question. Not only was he older than her by a long shot, he was also refined and proper. Besides, she loved him already, although in the way a young girl would love her grandfather. He was a source of wisdom and wit, a solid companion and sometimes sparring partner, if he didn't have other duties. She loved Walter, but she'd never want him as a lover.
As for her master…. Seras rose up on her elbows, a finger tapping her chin as she looked across the darkened room at the silent television, her mind racing. Sure, she thought Alucard was handsome; after all, his mysterious nature and cool demeanor practically oozed sex appeal.
But she was a logical sort of creature—she wasn't an idiot. He was well over 500 years old, she was almost certain. After all, the way Walter and Sir Integra hinted, and the more she spoke to him, it became clearer and clearer exactly who he was. And she wasn't altogether sure that she could handle being in a relationship with a Count, or better yet, a King. Besides, he had a limited range of emotions and love or affection didn't enter into that array at all, as far as she could tell.
That left Pip. Seras rolled back onto her back again, one knee coming up and her foot resting against the bottom of the coffin. Captain Bernadotte was cute enough, even if he was missing an eye. And he also had a certain enigmatic air about him. Plus, his adventuresome side turned her on a bit; she couldn't help but admire the romanticized notion of being the lover of a mercenary, a killer for hire whose only loyalty was to her. It was the perfect Harlequin Romance novel.
But her vampiric senses could hardly stand being next to him, seeing as the residue of liquor and smoke hung over his clothes and on his breath. She couldn't bear to think about kissing him; as a human it would have been okay for him to brush his teeth and be done, but she was sure that as a vampire he could gargle with acid and she'd still taste the nicotine on his breath.
And all the moves he'd made towards her before had been bordering on sheer lust, rather than true affection. In her books, that wouldn't stand. She couldn't bother with being some man's bed-buddy until he found a better lay. That wasn't the sort of girl she was.
Seras covered her face with her pillow, muffling her frustrated groan. It wasn't fair! How come all the women on the telly found the perfect men in their lives in the span of weeks? She'd been at Hellsing for months and not once had she found a suitable prospect for a boyfriend.
Hugging her pillow to her chest, she sniffed quietly and allowed the darkness to hide the tears brimming beneath her lashes. Why can't I just find a companion? Someone who treats me with kindness and shares the sort of intimacy with me that the women in movies do, someone who loves me for who I am, no matter if it's a vampire or a human. I want someone who I can be myself around, who I can trust—someone I'd be happy to give my virginity to.
The hair on the back of her neck tingled and her eyelids began to grow heavy. Even if she was still unused to nightshift, her body instinctively grew tired with the rising sun. She felt it even now, its heat warming the Earth. She longed to see it again outside of television, but her master had already explained why she could never enjoy the sun again.
"Your body is that of a corpse, no matter what you feel inside. Heating up in the sun like you would, with no fluids moving around in your body to cool you off, is a painful way to die. Your brain will overheat; your body will begin to spontaneously combust. You'll burn to death, and nothing will be able to save you. Even if you do somehow manage to grow as powerful as I, the sun will still burn your flesh every time you walk outside. It's not a pleasant experience."
His words echoed in her mind as if he still spoke them. She let the message of doom lull her to sleep, focusing on the smooth purr that accented every word. If only he wasn't so… unapproachable. Then maybe I wouldn't be so frightened to pursue him. With that thought, her eyes closed and her breathing stopped. She was, in every way, nothing more than a fresh corpse lying in an open coffin until the sun fell and she woke again.
The wall above the coffin swirled and a figure stepped from it, gazing down at the white-faced young woman lying motionless in the coffin. The figure muttered under its breath and reached down to pull the lid down over the body, stopping once to reach over and brush the pale blonde bangs off the girl's nose. Once the lid was firmly in place, the man stood and looked around at the room. He snapped his fingers and the sconces flickered once and then blazed into life. Shadows left their two-dimensional plane and pushed against the reinforced steel door, shutting it softly so as not to make a sound.
"So you would pursue me, Police Girl?" he murmured, looking back at the coffin's lid. He frowned and turned to the bulky box sitting on her chest of drawers. The shadows arced and the box blared to life, startling him. He quickly found the remote and pressed the mute button before watching the images flicker across the screen with mingled curiosity and interest.
He'd seen a television before, of course. But he was old-fashioned and wasting his time in such a meaningless way didn't seem worthwhile. Yet his fledgling enjoyed watching the variety of shows that appeared on the daily roster, and he allowed her this small comfort. After all, she could have her own hobbies if she chose.
"Valentine's Day," he said to no one in particular as the words flashed on the screen, followed by an enormous amount of gaudy jewelry that the screen proclaimed to be "on sale". Yes, Valentine's Day—hadn't Seras said that before? That was the reason she was in a soured mood, he was sure.
He knew about Valentine's Day, but never before had he even acknowledged it enough to celebrate it. It was a paltry farce of a holiday used to placate women with the sole intention of stealing their hearts and bedding them. Before, it had been a nuisance that he'd ignored. But now, perhaps the holiday could work to his advantage.
Turning the television off, he extinguished the lights and made his way through the floor and back to his own chambers, lost in thought.
Afterword: Funny story: I had this, and some others, that I needed to edit and post. But lo and behold, my stupid computer (or maybe just stupid me) put them in the wrong folder, and there they sat until I found them last night.
So even if it is July, enjoy a... Valentine's Day fic.
For all my American readers, happy 4th! For all the other countries... um, happy 4th! :D
