Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were.
A/N: Yet another something I found on my comp. Likely a one-shot. We'll see. ; )
I was a burden. I was lonely. I was a servant.
I was "police girl", and nothing more.
There's no denying Master's very nature is hypnotic, unrelenting. My own choice? Never. From the very moment I first heard his voice in my head, my words, my thoughts, my existence has been the Master's will. I fancy that even my futile endeavors to resist embracing my new life was some form of entertainment concocted to appease his macabre fascinations, an attempt to alleviate boredom.
The truth is I held his attention for the time it took to drain the blood from my dying body. More recently, I doubt even that assumption. My misfortunate lies in the fact that I can think of nothing else. No one else. Only Master.
In the end, my supposed release came, not by my "will", but by his command. I began my journey as a No Life King not long after the downfall of the Hellsing Institute. My world had turned on its axis, and my Master was content to abandon me to the Underground that I'd come to know as my home, if a being such as I could lay claim to such domesticities. I was still steeped with my human routines and rituals then. So completely naïve, so painfully unaware.
There is nothing left for you here, police girl…
He offered his blood to me for a second time with those words, and, in spite of my ignorance I knew…It was no act of kindness on my part. He wanted to sever the tie that held me to him, to release himself of responsibility.
And I only wanted to please him. So I drank.
Over fifty years have passed since I left London. I am aimless, wandering, often wondering why I was offered this power when I feel I can never fully explore its potential. I am all questions and no answers, having lost the want to ask long ago. Though I have done my best to obey my Master's words.
Do it more and more…follow the darkness with all your strength…
And now I find myself, after all this time--which is really inconsequential if I am to live forever—back in the same place it all began. For just one week prior, the last of the Hellsing line died.
And in spite of what I knew, feeble hope remained. Selfish motivations, yes, but, if I were to follow my Master's example, those were the only kind worthwhile. Would I be "police girl" always, or, just once, would I be Seras? One question that I dared to explore.
One question that I hoped he would answer.
****
It was a nice night.
She stood with her face tilted up toward the moon, her eyes closed so as to more fully appreciate the myriad of smells that plagued the evening air. The sky had offered a brief reprieve to the rain that had been falling all day, pleasuring her adept vision with a glorious view of the moors, blanketed with a fog that would have been a pristine white in the light of day. Silhouetted against the grayscale backdrop were headstones, enclosed by wrought iron. She hadn't the luxury of a closer view, though the fence was the least of her worries. It still troubled her, at times, to know that restrictions existed against her that, in effect, labeled her an abomination. Proof every day that she grew ever farther from having been human.
A soft breeze stirred the errant titian strands that framed her pale face, and she couldn't help the smile that tilted the corners of her mouth, the scent of rain and fresh earth almost as satisfying as…
A sudden shift in the wind broke her reverie; her wide, crimson eyes glowed eerily in the darkness as she focused her senses, her awareness heightened. It had been a long time since she'd felt anything other than an empty ambivalence…the anticipation that unfurled within her gut, though disconcerting, was a welcome change.
That…and for the first time in half a century, she could sense his presence. Her voice, a whisper as reverent and tremulous as prayer, pierced the silence around her as efficiently as a scream.
"Master."
She saw the shadows ripple, yet forced herself to stare straight ahead, feeling the mist gathering around her feet, her spine tingling with the knowledge of his eyes upon her. It seemed as though he was appraising her, most likely studying the effect of her descent into the darkness in which he'd dwelt longer than even he could remember. It was a path he'd often times ordered her to follow, and a path from which she'd turned time and again, in spite of her desire to do as he wished. It was only when she no longer had to obey him, when she'd nothing left and nowhere to go, that she finally ventured into the abyss, letting go of all that had kept her human.
She could sense that he was pleased with what he saw.
"Master," she whispered again, her voice merely a sigh as she bowed her head beneath the weight of his scrutiny, closing her eyes in an effort to enhance her other senses, so that she might revel in the gravity of his presence all the more.
His voice seemed one with the sounds of the night, blending well with the crickets and owls, carried to her upon a cold wind that forced an involuntary shudder. "I am no longer your master, police girl."
She opened her eyes, tilting her head up to stare at the moon, bloated and full and low on the horizon. Taking a deep breath, she turned, leveling her gaze on the figure cloaked in darkness mere feet away. His countenance was bathed in shadow, the only visible feature being his crimson eyes, heavily hooded and fixed intently on her.
"You will always be my master," she murmured, fighting the urge to lower her eyes from his penetrating stare. A heavy silence settled between the two vampires, pregnant with thoughts left unspoken. A throaty chuckle broke the spell, as Arucard finally emerged from his ebony shroud, adorned in his characteristic red overcoat and charcoal suit, although he was without his hat. He stopped his approach when no than a few inches separated them, an ever-present smirk turning up the corners of his mouth.
"You've grown strong, Seras."
Her response to his saying her name was immediate, her lips parting in mild surprise as she blinked. His smiled widened slightly, his gaze flickering down over her body and back to her face before he moved to step around her. She kept her eyes upon him, turning as he passed, her feet planted to the ground as she watched him walk several paces ahead of her, then pause with his back to her.
"You're proud of me."
It was more of a statement than a question, though she'd initially meant it to be an inquiry. When he gave no reply, she moved to stand beside him, craving his nearness, and despising herself for it. They stood, immersed in the solitude and solemnity of the graveyard, staring out over the moonlit plots, their combined presence a throbbing hum that underscored the night air, tainting the crickets' midnight symphony. The moon had disappeared from the sky, the dawn no more than an hour away, before she finally gathered the courage to speak again.
"Does this mean you're free?"
She could feel his eyes upon her, studying her profile, but she refused to face him, suddenly ashamed to have broached the subject. She knew that, as demeaning his service to the Hellsing Institute was, he'd held a inexplicable fondness for Sir Integra, a fondness of which she'd, at times, been quite jealous. She kept perfectly still beneath the gravity of his stare, wishing she could take the words back, and entirely expecting him to forego an answer and leave her wondering in the light of the dawn. It was with that in mind that he spoke, his voice silky smooth as a lover's caress, a lingering sadness in his words that forced her to turn to gaze upon him.
"I will never be free. Not like you."