Disclaimer: Guess what? Right! Hellsing's not mine, nor are any of the characters… much to my own profound disappointment.
Contextual Comfort
Part one: Ceres
Ceres sighed quietly and stuffed her gloved hands into her pockets, nibbling at her lower lip with her pointed canine teeth. The last few days had just been too strange for words: Walter in the hospital, Intergal imprisoned, her Master being his usual self… and dealing with the Judas priest. She kicked back on the lush coverlets of her "bed" and willed her uncooperative body to feel how weary her mind was and the nearness of the approaching dawn. Sleep would be a welcome relief.
Come on… I just wanna go to pass out and forget tonight ever happened…
"It wasn't that bad, police girl…"
Yes, yes it was! You weren't there, Master. You left me… alone! Alone to deal with that psychotic zealot! Ceres bit her lip again, drawing blood. Unconsciously, she licked the punctures clean, scowling at the elder vampire's thoughts.
"And you handled it very well. You know that if you'd have been in any real danger, I would have shown up." Alucard's trademark grin was evident in his tone.
Ceres was silent for a long moment, and with a soft chuckle he broke into her thoughts again. "Well, they do say that music soothes the savage beast…" he offered wryly.
Ceres snickered involuntarily, covering her mouth with her hand, then bust out into frantic giggles as the image of Paladin Anderson belting out an Italian opera aria sprang full-blown into her mind. She rolled back and forth on her bed, clutching her stomach with one hand and trying to restrain the laughter erupting from her mouth with the other. "It… it was so terrible… in that accent of his…" she managed to get out, forgetting that at the time she had been terrified he would suddenly turn and begin flinging blessed blades at her head. She had been stricken dumbfounded that he had not, and filled with gratitude that God had favored her this evening instead of the priest.
"Mmm… the phrase 'can't carry a tune in a bucket' comes to mind, eh, police girl?"
She struggled for a moment, alternating between gasping for breath and contorting in laughter again, before pushing the colorful memory from her mind. I'm going to treasure that image for a long time… He had to have been drunk.
"Nonsense. Regenerators can't get drunk; they metabolize the alcohol too quickly." There was a brief pause. "Now, police girl, you have a nice nap. I'm off to find a… midnight snack."
Ceres nodded, knowing her master would catch her mental tone of acknowledgement, and twisted in the blankets. She was feeling a bit better about the evening, and her vampiric sense of the sun was beginning to shut her body down for something similar to sleep. She rubbed her aching stomach muscles, snickered a bit more, and lowered the lid of the coffin.
When she awoke in the early evening, Ceres could tell immediately that someone had been in the room while she slept, and while she knew they were not still there, she pressed the button to raise the canopy of the bed and peered out cautiously. The room was unchanged except for a large box sitting on the floor.
She sat up and tugged at the tape sealing the box shut. She smelled no scent other than her own in the room, and she was confident that there was nothing harmful in the package. A few quick tugs, and she was able to pry the flaps open and peer in. She gasped and kicked the box away.
What…? She sat still for a moment, calming down. She knew it could not be what it appeared, but it had startled her just the same. She got up and looked into the box again.
Dark hair, glass-like ruby eyes, and strange velvety red streamers coming out of the bottom… yes, it was indeed a stuffed version of Alucard's severed head. Ceres lifted it out by a hank of yarn hair and stared at it; she shuddered and glanced around the room, wondering who would leave such an irreverent, gruesome gift. A note card fluttered from the stuffed… thing… toward the box, and with cat-quick reflexes, she caught it.
You seem to like cuddling the real thing when given the chance, so here's one you can squeeze any time you want, the card read in neat block printing.
Ceres looked around the room, disturbed at this development, then at the head in the box. She sighed, dropped the card, and lifted the plushie up again. It really was a startling resemblance… She tossed it onto her bed, and it landed neatly by the pillow, staring open-mouthed around the room. She grinned and stifled an urge to fling herself on the bed with it reciting Hamlet.
Alas, poor Alucard… I knew him Integra—a fellow of most infinite jest, most excellent fancy! High school drama came back to her, and she chocked on her own laughter for the second time in a day. Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your flashes of merriment wont to set the table on a roar? No one now to mock your own grinning?
"That's not funny, police girl." The aristocratic voice sounded through her mind with a sigh. "Though between you and the priest, we could have a fascinating stage show… we should get together and start charging people." He paused briefly. "He's kind of touchy about that singing thing, by the way."
Ceres raised a brow, exchanging a meaningful glance with her new toy. Alucard's sense of entertainment was rather… destructive. Not to mention masochistic. And, for that matter, sadistic. She had a pretty good idea of what he was doing at the moment. She thought of asking him where this strange stuffed… thing… had come from, then grinned and shook her head.
It was a brand new night, and life was good.