Title: Of Flesh and Blood

Author: Essie Aster

Category: Hellsing

Genre: Drama, Supernatural

Rating: PG (PG-13 later on)

Summary: Reports of disappearances at a Catholic boarding school in North America prompt the Vatican to send a force that isn't supposed to exist to investigate, but dealing with a human adversary is nothing like dealing with the un-dead.

A/N: Get it out of your head right now! I mean it! You crazed pairing-obsessed fangirls, get it out! Iscariot and romance just doesn't work, and therefore there is none in this fic. NONE! And no this is not a Mary-Sue either. It was a random idea that popped up and an interesting situation that came to mind to throw Iscariot into. I'm allowed to make up my own characters without it being a Mary-Sue. Now that that is over with there are two things you will have to forgive me for. One is accents. I can't understand a word out of Anderson's mouth in the manga and I ain't writing that damn accent. Not gonna happen. The other thing is that some of the rituals and traditions are probably off. I'm pure-blooded Protestant so I'm writing with an unintentional slant. This isn't part of the Hellsing timeline, just another random Iscariot fic that could take place at any point. Hope you don't hate it, but not my problem if you do ;) I'm just writing for the fun of it. XD

Chapter 1

The day was coming to a close as the sun dipped toward the western horizon. Most of the students at St. Catherine's boarding school were either in the dormitories studying or gathering for the evening meal. The all-girl's school was a quiet, self-contained little world set in the remote hills of southwestern Michigan. The nearest city was over an hour's drive, and the small towns in the surrounding countryside were hardly more than a collection of houses, a school here and there, a church, a pub, several fishing stores, and multiple vacation homes owned by citizens from Lansing to Muskegon. The law in that area consisted of a handful of retired sheriffs and the occasional rookie looking to gain quiet experience before heading to the big cities, though the church was generally left to deal with offenders in its own way.

The campus itself was secluded in a shallow valley, a five minute walk from St. Catherine's Cathedral built on the summit of one of the larger hills. The building was over two hundred years old, the chapel having been built by the French in the mid eighteenth century and later added to by wealthy Irish and Polish immigrants who settled nearby. During the Victorian Age the school was built to train young Catholic girls in the ways of God and decent society. A monastery built within the cathedral housed its caretakers who were among the only small group of men permitted to walk freely on the campus grounds. Here lived also the three priests who headed up the church and school as well as the professors who taught alongside the nuns and served as advisors and caretakers of the roughly five hundred students.

The students were required to keep their school and living areas clean and orderly, though the required duties decreased as the girls advanced through the four year program and began to head up catechism classes for the local parishioners. These said duties were typically performed in the morning, before breakfast, so that the girls would be free to spend time studying and in prayer after the long day of classes, which most actually did. Most, however, not all. There was the occasional butterfly who would sit in the fireside hall and socialize with her friends from the time classes let out until the evening mass. And, of course, there was the girl who never did her work and very nearly flunked out of her classes. And, every so often, there was a girl who stood to the side, apart from the rest. Though her academic profile far outshone the most studious of girls, she was rarely seen studying. In truth, she was rarely seen and of late seemed to disappear completely.

Alyson Johanson did not fit into any mould the school's long history had written. Some called her a trouble maker. Many called her lazy. No one would have labeled her pious. While she held one of the coveted positions at the top of her class, Alyson's teachers merely tolerated her so long as she kept silent and out of the way. Father Emile, the head priest in charge of the congregation of St. Catherine's, as well as the professor of the third and fourth year theology classes, saw the girl as a 'disrespectful whelp in need of a sound beating.'

Sitting in the front pew in the sanctuary with her eyes closed, her elbows rested on her knees and her head bowed, Alyson could have easily passed as sound asleep. Folded between her hands was a small wooden rosary her mother had given her years ago. The clergy knew she rarely said the rosary, a fact which quite irritated them. What they did not know was that she did not sit in the sanctuary, gently fingering the small beads, just to sleep or vex the nuns. What appeared to them as blasphemous defiance was, in truth, an intimate commune with the one they served, if any one of them had cared to look close at the sixteen year old. Alyson did not ignore the nun hissing her name from a side door near the front of the sanctuary. Alyson did not hear the nun. Her eyes opened with a jolt as her spirit was pulled back into the cold shell of flesh when the irritated nun shook her shoulder.

'This is a place of prayer and worship, you insolent girl,' the nun whispered as she tugged on Alyson's arm. 'The dinner bell is ringing. You're already late, again.'

Not caring to defend herself to the older woman, Alyson obediently rose to her feet and, slipping the rosary into the pocket of her uniform skirt, quietly left the sanctuary and headed toward the dining hall. Halfway there she stopped and turned, gazing intently down the narrow two-lane road that lead around the side of the hill. No one ever used that road during the week except Father Mondego, the dean of the school, and Alyson had just passed him on her way out of the cathedral. Nevertheless, she waited and watched. Slowly a black car came around the bend, stopping at the steps of the cathedral.

Father Mondego, a middle aged man with dark but graying hair, strode quickly down the stone stairs and paused at their base as the car parked and turned off. From the back driver's side door exited a priest wearing a simple vested suit and collar. His long hair was bound behind him in a loose ponytail that cascaded midway down his back. Father Mondego extended his hand to greet the newcomer who, in turn, smiled and extended his own greeting which Alyson was too far away to hear.

A second priest, an older man with short gray hair and a thick mustache, emerged from the other side of the back seat, walking around the car to greet Mondego as the car's final passenger stepped out. Dressed in the simple robes of his office, the tall priest had short blonde hair and wore thin wire rimmed glasses that reflected the light of the failing sun and hid the pale eyes behind them. He rested a gloved hand on top of the car, still holding the door opened with another, and surveyed his surroundings; the dean, the cathedral, the pair of Sisters hustling a first year toward the dining hall. Finally they locked on Alyson's slight form standing in the shade of a flame tinted maple tree. For a moment they did not move, and Alyson felt almost as though the priest was looking right through her, into her very soul.

Tucking an annoying strand of hair behind her ear, Alyson turned and continued her walk to the dining hall, feeling his eyes follow her until she passed through the doors and disappeared into the throng of students.

*****

'Father Maxwell,' the dean greeted with an extended hand. 'St. Catherine's is honoured by your visit.'

Enrico Maxwell shook the older man's hand and smiled. 'We look forward to seeing the work you've done here,' he replied courteously. Father Renaldo appeared from the other side of the car and nodded a silent greeting before shaking the dean's hand.

Returning his attention to Father Maxwell, Mondego went on, 'We just received word yesterday from Rome, though, I must confess, I'm not certain I quite understand the nature of your visit.'

'Just an inspection, Father Mondego,' Maxwell replied, his voice diplomatically neutral and vague.

'Of course,' Mondego smiled to mask his remaining confusion. 'But you must be hungry after your trip. Dinner is about to be served, if you'll just follow me.'

'Thank you,' Maxwell nodded. 'Father Anderson,' he turned to the priest who had his attention focused on the entrance of a large building.

'Thanks, but I'll have to decline,' the tall Scotsman said with a wide grin, turning to the dean as he shut the car door.

Mondego nodded. 'I'll have Brother Peters show you to your quarters.' At his words a young man emerged from the church and gestured for Anderson to follow him. The other guests followed the dean away to the dining hall where the entire student body was assembled.

Brother Peters lead Anderson through the Latin engraved archway and into the cathedral. The narthex was domed with a painted image of heaven and opened out in three directions. Straight forward was the enormous sanctuary and the dozens of neatly ordered pews all lined in velvet cushions. At the left wing of the sanctuary was the old pipe organ, the pipes partially hidden in the panels of the wall. At the front right of the sanctuary knelt a sculpture of Saint Catherine with her head tilted gently upwards. Next to Saint Catherine was placed the Blessed Mother whose arm was outstretched in a blessing. In two rows along the length of the sanctuary multiple busts of saints sat on shelves in between the tall stained-glass windows. But beyond the silver lined baptismal font and delicately styled alter hung a twelve foot by six foot crucifix, the reproduction of Christ painstakingly detailed down to the drops of blood seeping from beneath the thorny crown. Alexander Anderson paused a moment beside the porcelain basin of holy water to survey the rare beauty of the American sanctuary before turning down the left corridor as directed by Brother Peters.

The corridor branched off in several places, into lavish room that were untouched by all save for cleaning, and also into other narrow hallways leading to even less frequently used rooms. The air was quiet, peaceful on the surface with a hint of unrest below. The only sound came from the soft treads of the two men and the nervous breathing of the monk in the lead. It was not too long until Alexander was lead to turn down one of the branching halls, plainly built with stone flooring and clean but rustic walls. This new passage was almost a world apart from the rest of the elegant cathedral they had left behind. The first door on the left was the one designated for the Vatican's emissaries' stay. The Brother unlocked and opened the door for the priest who opened his mouth to say a thanks but was cut short.

'Th - thank you,' the young man stumbled quietly, his eyes shifting nervously past the tall figure into the open corridor beyond. 'For coming, that is. You're a godsend.' With that the man turned and hurried off down the hall and ducked inside of an entrance on the opposite side.

*****

Meals were served in silence by students on academic probation or as penance for not adhering to one of the school's many rules. The most common rule broken was done in the dining hall - talking during meal time.

The bell sounded fifteen minutes before the meals were served. Every member of the school was expected to be on time or go without. Father Emile began the meal by solemnly rising from his seat at the head table in from of the standing students and pronouncing a blessing over the food, humbly thanking God for his generous sustenance, then reminding the students to nurture not only their bodies, but also their souls, for, as he loved to recite, 'man does not live by bread alone.'

'But by every word that floweth from the mouth of God. Amen.' As one the room's occupants made the sign of the cross and mouthed the closing proclamation. Father Emile was the first to take his seat, followed by the staff at his table, and then the body of students and faculty at the rows of tables opposite.

Alyson was one of the students serving the evening meals for the entire week as punishment for missing Brother Cullen's lecture on "The One True Church," though she had already missed two of the days so far. The humiliation intended by this servitude hardly bothered Alyson, only more it pleased her to be an imitator of the Saviour's own humble service. It was the silence imposed on the student body that bothered her the most. It was an outdated practice, this meal time silence, and it had only just recently been brought back by Father Mondego when he had taken the office of Dean only a few months ago. When before the understood rule was that if the nuns at the ends of each table could hear you, you were too loud, Mondego claimed that it was un-ladylike and irreverent. Therefore, no speaking was permitted from the time Father Emile rose for the blessing to the time the girls exited the hall.

'I'm still not I quite understand this new "quiet" rule,' Alyson commented aloud as she served the meal, well after Father Emile's blessing. A sharp gasp echoed from the students and instructors as one. No one moved or spoke. 'What if I have a question?' Alyson continued, not looking up as she continued her duties. 'Or are questions forbidden as well? Of course, while the Holy Scripture does warn us of false teachers who would lead God's children astray, we shouldn't question God's servants. Do forgive me. Nevertheless, perhaps the eleven missing students are proof of the wolf hiding among the flock.' Alyson paused in her service and looked up to the table at which two of the newly arrived visitors were seated, as well as Father Emile and Father Mondego. It was first to Mondego that she briefly glanced as she continued her forbidden speech, her eyes gliding midway to focus on Father Renaldo and then to settle on Father Maxwell's emerald stare.

'I thought perhaps our visitors from the Vatican should like to be aware of the situation into which they've arrived.'

'That's quite enough, Alyson,' Father Mondego interrupted. Alyson's eyes did not move from Maxwell's, and Mondego gestured for one of the sisters to stop the girl.

'What happened to Nadine, Father Mondego?' Alyson asked, not looking at him or the approaching sisters. 'And Ivy, and Karen?' Alyson was on fire, and she had no intention of stopping. Her only close friends had all disappeared less than a week ago, and they had not been the first. Over the past months students just - disappeared; students with little or no connections to their families, students who caused too much trouble or asked too many questions, or students who only existed as a name or perhaps a face in a classroom, and no voice. No one with in the school would speak of it. The students were too afraid, and the teachers denied the problem existed.

Two sisters hushed Alyson from either side and tried to hustle her out of the dining hall. Those who had looked down in embarrassment in the beginning now stared openly with the rest at the confrontation.

'Where did they go, Father? How do twelve people suddenly vanish without a trace?' Alyson pushed, barely raising her voice above the sisters'.

'Sister Nora,' Mondego looked at one of the women trying to silence the student. The big woman took a firm grip on the girl's right arm and forced her from the room. Obediently, Alyson said nothing and did not fight back, only continued to stare blankly at the occupants of the head table. 'Please forgive her behaviour,' Mondego apologized to the visitors, appalled that one of his students would behave in such a manner in front of the pope's representatives. Then again, how had she known?

Maxwell waived the incident aside, following the girl out of the large room with his eyes as the rest of the students returned to their silent meal.

*****

'Nadine was sent home, Alyson, as you full well know,' Sister Nora scolded the girl standing in the foyer of Mother Ruth's office. Alyson's auburn hair hung over her expressionless face as she stood silently with her head bowed. Gently touching a small gold locket around her neck, Alyson determined not to speak to the pacing nun.

'To embarrass our school over this!' she continued.

'Sister Nora,' an elderly female voice interrupted, 'that will be all. Thank you.'

Calming herself instantly, Sister Nora nodded to the older woman and departed silently.

'Come child,' Ruth gently invited Alyson into her office.

Alyson sat in the simple high-backed chair in front of Ruth's cluttered desk as the woman retrieved a small napkin-bound bundle and handed it to the girl. 'You must be hungry, missing supper like that.'

'Thank you, Mother,' Alyson replied respectfully, taking the roll that was offered to her.

'Well, I'd say after three years we've gotten to know eachother fairly well, wouldn't you, Alyson?' Ruth began, seating herself across from the student in her own uncomfortable-looking chair.

Alyson replied with an embarrassed half-smile and nod.

'Father Mondego's quite upset with you this time. Do you know who his visitors are?'

'Emissaries from the Vatican,' Alyson responded.

'Yes, and they're here to do a report on the school.' Ruth sighed, knowing she would not get anywhere using this course. 'Your friends went home, child, all for their own reasons. The files are confidential. I'm not permitted to tell you what those reasons are.'

'Yes, Mother,' Alyson replied.

For a long stretch of time the two were completely silent. Alyson sat submissively with her head slightly bowed, looking at her hands and the soft lump of bread she held while her hair created blinds on either side of her face. Ruth was leaning slightly forward, her hands folded on her desk, looking intently at the student in front of her.

'Don't mock me, Alyson,' Ruth broke the silence. 'I'm not your enemy.'

Alyson looked up at her elder, her soft brown eyes revealing nothing of what she felt inside. Was she mocking the woman? No, but she could see how her behaviour could be perceived as mockery, so she remained silent and let the woman continue.

Ruth took a deep breath before resuming her monologue. 'Nothing we do seems to get through to you. I don't even know what to do with you anymore. I called your father. He wants us to send you home.'

For a brief moment Alyson felt her blood run cold as Ruth's eyes made contact with her own.

'I'm not going to ask what you think about that. Nor do I think it would be safe for you to return home. But if you continue your behaviour you will not graduate from this institution, and we will have no choice but to return you to your father's custody, or hand you over to the state. I believe the prospect of that is punishment enough for the time.'

As the seven o'clock bells started to chime Alyson felt fear rising in her, an almost physical sensation that she could not shake.

'You'll be late for mass if you don't hurry,' Ruth informed Alyson as she rose to hold open the door to her office. Alyson stood obediently and exited the room, staying at the back of the chapel as the evening mass began.

A/N: Do I update regularly? No. But I do know where and how this fic is going, so eventually it will continue, just no guarantees as to when ;) oh, and don't bother asking about other members of the Hellsing cast, cause the answer is NO!