SUMMARY: I wonder…if you will smile when 'the Captain', when The Wolf dies. 'I' wonder…Seras Victoria…are 'You' my death?
DISCLAIMER: HELLSING and all its affiliates belong to HIRANO KOUTA.
I have been working on this fanfic for years. Mostly because I needed the details of the Seras VS Captain fight. I am so happy I was finally able to finish it and share it with all of you! I hope you love it as much as I do!
PLEASE REVIEW!
= ARE YOU MY DEATH? =
"…Do you hear it…?"
"Ze Captain iz strong," is what they say.
"Ze Captain iz powerful."
"Ze Captain iz fearless."
Perhaps they are right.
'I' am strong.
'I' am ruthless.
'I' fear nothing.
Though, in reality, there is barely any idea as to who 'I' am, so at times I must wonder who 'the Captain' is.
'I' am alone. Throughout the many years of my life, I have never found another like me, so I must believe that I am the last of my kind. I cannot even recall the names or the faces of my Mother or Father. My first memory is of sitting alone, the snow falling silently all around me.
'He' found me. That man, that monster to his own kind. "Vhy don't you come vith me?"
And I went with him. I was trained. I was given orders. I became the Battalion's greatest weapon. 'I' am 'the Captain,' because of 'Him.' 'I' am 'His' guard dog.
But guard dogs cannot bark for themselves, as such I am forbidden to howl. Every night, every full moon when I should have sang praises to the night and the unending sky above me, I was silent.
'I' hate 'Him.' 'The Captain' obeys 'Him.'
But in the end, there was nothing I wanted. I fought because 'He' told me to. That's all.
Truly, the War made no difference to me. Before, During and After, 'He' was still there. When he called me to fight, I fought. When he ordered me to kill, I killed. When he lay near death at the edge of the battlefield, I came to find him.
And for the next 55 years, we hid ourselves away and waited.
There were others among the Battalion. None like me, for I am the last, but 'others' that were not right. The others of the Battalion were just as warped, just as rotten, just as wrong. I prefer to be by myself when I am allowed, but there were two among those others that spoke to me often, though I never answered. But those two I prefer, should I have to be in the company of others.
"Are you mein Captain? Wundervoll! I like you!" He looked like a boy. A very young boy with a Cheshire cat smile and the ears to match. No one could say where he came from, or who he really was. "I am no von. I am everyvhere, und novhere." Those were his favorite words.
I suppose while 'the Captain' is the Battalion's dog, 'the Warrant Officer' is the cat. Where 'I' must stay and guard 'Him', the boy was free to come and go whenever and wherever he pleased. Because of that, I wonder if I should have hated him. I didn't.
"Don't you ever speak, mein Captain? I vould love to hear your voice." Then there was that other one. The First Lieutenant. She looked almost like a boy, even with her long flowing hair, but the moment she spoke or more often sang, one knew it was a young woman. Though I could always tell by the way she smelled. She was loud, exuberant, and never stopped being a child at heart, no matter how many people she could kill with a single shot.
Maybe I like them.
The others want things, they tell me. They are peculiar things, almost human things, but not. The First Lieutenant often cleans the rifle left to her by her father, singing of the monsters she longs to slay and the battles she dreams of winning. She paints her visions in patterns impossible to comprehend but are strangely pleasant to behold.
But there was no design in my life. There is no pattern, no dream. No longing or ambition of any sort.
'I' live because there is simply nothing else to do. 'I' am alive, but 'I' do not live.
No matter how strong or brilliant 'I' am, 'I' am alone. 'I' am empty. After so many years of living, even before the end of the Second World War, I wanted to die. I wondered if 'the Captain' should have died back during the War that nearly choked the world. 'The Captain' did not die. Nor did 'I'.
That is because 'I' don't want to just die. The Wolf refuses to just die.
The Wolf wants to kill. The Wolf wants to taste blood. The Wolf wants to hunt, chase and take life. The Wolf wants the forest, bathed in moonlight and shadow. The Wolf wants to sing.
If 'I' must have one wish, it is to fight. To leave 'the Captain' and become free. To chase, to bleed, to rend flesh from bone, and feel alive in dying. Death is the only freedom left after so long.
But no one will fight me. 'I' am 'the Captain'. Even 'His' ebon-haired enemy, The Black King feared to face 'the Captain', The Wolf. No one will fight 'the Captain.' Neither men nor monsters can kill 'the Captain.' '
I' want to be The Wolf. 'I' want to forget 'The Captain.'
"Do you hear it…?"
When I first saw 'You', The Wolf stirred for the first time in an eternity.
The Black King answered Tubalcain's challenge, and while the battle was broadcast and viewed with elation by a good many, it meant nothing to me. A new War has been declared, in which many will die and only one will stand victorious. It meant nothing to me.
Then 'I' saw 'You.'
Armed with guns far larger than any normal person deemed to carry, much less a woman of such a buxom stature, 'You' faced the Dandy Man with a war cry that made The Wolf raise his hackles. Even as he cut your bullets in half, you did not relent against your opponent. Of course, the Black King settled the fight with his own teeth, much to 'His' delight, but it was 'You' that I watched.
The Midian with hair of sunshine gold and eyes of purest blue. The Black King's beautiful Servant-Child.
It was those eyes that held me. The others around me all have stagnant eyes. Even normal people have something dark about their gaze. 'You' are different. Strength and something bright filled those depths of blue.
It was only as 'the Captain' followed 'Him' back to base that 'I' realized.
The light in those eyes was the will of someone trying desperately to live.
"She ist very lovely…" the Cat said when he returned from London. "Und very polite. I like her very much. But she ist still…young. The daylight still exist vithin her, alongside the night. I vonder vhat she thinks about as she vanders through the evening. Don't you, Captain?"
'The Captain' did not reply. I sometimes pondered on how the Warrant Officer knew what he knew, but since he is the Cat, he keeps his secrets to himself unless he truly feels like sharing.
But 'I' did wonder about 'You.' Like the shadow left in one's eyes after staring into a strong light, the image of 'You' would not leave my thoughts. 'The Captain' made no outward show of interest, but 'I' wondered about 'You'.
What is it that 'You' strive to live for? What reason could 'You' possibly have to live so desperately? Where was the meaning in it?
Living. Killing. Dying.
There is no Life which 'I' or 'the Captain' or The Wolf live. 'I' cannot understand.
Rip Van Winkle met her end at the hands of the Black King. 'I' will miss her. 'The Captain' has already dismissed her.
'The Captain' knows now that 'He' also takes interest in 'You', as well as the Black King's Master. "Do not underestimate Integra Hellsing and Seras Victoria," 'He' says to Zorin. "These two are terribly inexperienced und imperfect, but on that account I decide to value zem as arch enemies, ze same as Alucard."
Arch enemy. A true opponent. A worthy death.
'He' says that there is a battlefield waiting for us all. There is a place and enemy we can all fight. 'The Captain' understands that. 'The Captain' wants that. But The Wolf does not want a War. The Wolf does not need a vast army at his back, nor a world that does not want him.
Arch enemies. A true opponent. A worthy death. The Wolf wants that.
One adversary. One rival. One person to challenge The Wolf, to either die or kill.
'I' want that.
For a time, I believed that Old Boy might face 'the Captain' again and become that long awaited rival, to fight and kill and die. But where he once sought to defend his Lady, he was taken and played with until something else was brought out, and the Old Boy was no longer the worthy opponent 'the Captain' sought.
The Old Boy wants to face the Black King, as 'He' does. The Black King is their goal, their enemy, their rival.
Where is it? Where is my opponent? Where is the one who will fight 'the Captain' without dread? Who will face The Wolf?
I already know. No one will fight 'the Captain.' Neither men nor monsters can kill The Wolf.
"Zorin ist dead," the Cat smiles. "Dead at ze hands of ze Vampire, Seras Victoria."
Zorin's death was expected. She was disobedient to 'His' orders. But that 'You' were the one to kill her was something that piqued my interest. 'You' are a Monster now, like the Black King that so many pursue. Like The Wolf.
Did 'You' fight desperately to live? Did 'You' face her in spite of the nightmares she showed 'You'? Did 'You' smile as she died?
…No. The Wolf knows better. Zorin's death meant little to nothing at all to 'You'. The Wolf knows that 'You' fought to protect the place 'You' call home, and care only for those most precious lost to death. You killed her because she needed to die. Someone as worthless as Zorin deserves no further regard, much less a smile over her demise.
I wonder…if you will smile when 'the Captain', when The Wolf dies.
'I' wonder…
…Seras Victoria…
…are 'You' my death?
"Do you hear it? The soft 'thump' of a heart still beating?"
The few times 'He' will allow 'the Captain' to become The Wolf, have always been ecstasy and my one true reverie in this life. The Wolf knows that it is necessary to kill for food in order to survive. That to kill an enemy is also necessary at times. The Wolf has always known this.
When 'the Captain' shoots that Girl-Child of Iscariot, it is not to kill. Is it pity? 'The Captain' pities no one. But to dissuade her from further intrusion, force is required. The Wolf does not need to kill her.
There is no point in her death. She fought fearlessly, to come this far. Her comrade is dead, cut to pieces. Nothing can be done. 'I' don't want to kill her, and she doesn't have to die. So 'I' allow her to live. Leaving her the medical kit 'the Captain' always carries but never uses, I return to the Hindenburg II.
She is not my opponent. She is not 'You'.
No one must interfere.
'You' are close. So close.
Mourn the dead. Hate the betrayers, the killers, the monsters. And come. Plow your way across the battlefield to where we wait for 'You' and your King's Master. Hunt us down, find where we linger in this wretched place, 'He' and 'I'.
"You may go now, Captain," 'He' smiles with a slight wave of the hand. "I'm certain zhere is one you are vaiting for as vell, ja?"
I am uncertain as to how 'He' knows, but it has always been that way, for as long as I can recall. 'I' am angered by 'His' knowledge. But 'the Captain' has been dismissed. That is all 'I' need. The Wolf is aware.
Kill for food. Kill to survive. The Wolf has always known this.
But 'I' want to wage War with 'You'. 'I' want to kill 'You'. 'I' want to die fighting 'You'.
The others died smiling. That is what they came for. They searched so long for a place to fight, a place to die. I wonder if they are happy. I wonder if 'I' should be happy.
It angers 'You'. "If they want to die that much…! If they want to die that badly! They should've hung themselves fifty bloody years ago!"
The Wolf understands the stupidity of this, as well as the necessity of it all. To hunt. To chase. To kill. To taste blood. To die facing another in worthy combat, one enemy truly worthy of granting that death. That is all animal instinct and need. That is all 'the Captain' and the others have come to know under 'Him'.
Only 'You' and yours deserve to kill us. Only to kill 'You' have 'I' come this far.
And now, for the first time we meet.
Clad all in red, with eyes no longer sky-blue, 'I' meet 'You' face to face.
'You' have changed from when 'the Captain' saw you before, like the Cat said. Rather than shining with the blue of the midday sky, a gaze burning with the glow of the sun at twilight looked back at me. But that willpower, that need to live to see tomorrow is still there. 'I' am glad.
'I', 'the Captain' and The Wolf have waited so long to meet 'You'.
Seras Victoria.
Are you my death?
I send the Master of your King away. Away to face 'Him'. To kill 'Him' or to die by 'His' hand. It makes little difference to me. But there is no point in my killing her, indirectly or not, so 'I' would rather she left.
"Much obliged."
Her brusque thanks is surprising, but I choose not linger on it. Let her go.
'I' don't want her. She is not my opponent. She is not 'You'.
'The Captain' has come to fight 'You'. The Wolf has come to kill 'You'. 'I' want 'You'.
If it is possible for me to make one last choice, one wish, I want it to be 'You'. 'I' want 'You' to be my death.
Our eyes remain locked amidst the flames. Even as the walls begin to crumble and Even as 'You' take up arms from the others killed moments ago, neither of us look away. And for a brief moment, I want nothing more than to stay that way with 'You'.
I wonder why.
The moment of tranquility locked in chaos is broken and we attack.
Bullets from both our weapons tear the floor and walls apart, scraps of metal that once made up a magnificent weapon of mass destruction are sent flying. But no shots hit us directly. We are faster than these lifeless balls of metal, so of course we aren't even grazed. This makes me happy.
But 'You' are careless as you charge through the smoke of our gunfire. 'You' don't expect me to discard my coat, and being caught up in it, the point-blank shots I fire are inevitable.
That isn't enough to kill 'You'.
A single cut across my face is all the warning I need before I jump away to avoid your retaliation. As my coat is shredded to nothing, 'You' emerge, smiling. Teeth and eyes gleaming in the shadow that is as much a part of 'You' as your skin, 'You' charge at me again.
I charge to meet 'You'. The Wolf emerges for the first time in what feels like a century.
Are 'You' surprised? Are 'You' scared?
The Wolf bares his fangs and I feel the thrill that comes with the hunt. 'I' let go of 'the Captain' and become The Wolf. This is how 'I' should be. This is how 'I' was meant to be. Despite my many years of serving 'Him' as 'the Captain,' this has always been mine. This is ME.
'You' are surprised. 'You' are scared.
But The Wolf cannot risk becoming completely corporal, as greatly as 'I' desire complete release, 'the Captain' knows restraint. All the same, 'I' am satisfied. This is ME.
The Wolf attacks. 'You' cannot defend. Perhaps The Wolf is too surprising, too frightening for one of so few years. 'You' are sent flying, ricocheting off the walls like toy until blood flows. Still, The Wolf does not stop. Charging again, 'I' shift back just enough and 'the Captain' beats your bleeding form until we break through the floor.
We fall. But I catch myself easily whilst 'You' fall without any direction or control other than what gravity gives you.
Our battle has damaged the ship even further and it is falling apart all around us. But all I care to see is 'You' lying there. We are where we need to be. We will finish it here.
Get up. Stand up and fight. Bring me down.
'You' lay broken on the floor amidst the plundered wealth. 'You' don't want to get back up. 'You' don't want to fight. I can smell your withdrawal. The light that seized me so relentlessly before has gone dim.
'I' am angry. 'I' have no need for 'You' if your defeat comes so easily.
Get up. Face me. Fight me. Kill me.
The Wolf is displeased. Such weakness from such promising prey. 'The Captain' delivers the killing blow.
Only to find 'You' have leapt overhead and land behind me, leaving one of the many boxes to take the fatal hit and scatter the countless slips of paper held within it. It is an annoyance, but The Wolf is pleased.
I turn to look at 'You'.
'You' are awake again. 'I' smell your resolve to keep fighting. Good. 'You' smile at me.
I can't say how or why, but the sight makes my blood stir.
Perhaps it is because even your red-clad Sire feared to face me, while 'You' stand firm and meet my gaze with a smile.
'I' am…happy.
'You' are swift to offer up a kick of your own. Had I not tilted my head to one side, I may have actually lost it.
Drawing back, 'You' attack again. Not from a single point this time. 'You' thrust your entire shadow-endowed arm into the floor itself and rip up everything it touches as it spreads. All to get to me. All to stab straight through me.
It is not difficult to avoid. 'I' have lived a long time. The white mist that surrounds me is not unlike the shadow that surrounds 'You'. It protects me. It speaks to me. It is a part of me. It is ME.
Instead, the cases of paper and shining metals, and countless other meaningless valuables suffer under your attack. It is as The Wolf sets me down that 'You' realize exactly what 'I' am, as well as notice where we are and what it is that surrounds us.
All of this wealth was stolen. Plundered from the weak and the helpless. Hidden away in boxes and papers, never to be looked upon or touched again.
Why keep such things? The Wolf has often wondered. Where is the point in hiding away all of this? Such baubles are truly worthless in my eyes. It cannot be burned for heat, nor can it be eaten when hungry. Why keep all of this? The Wolf does not understand it. 'The Captain' has never wanted it. 'I', however, have need of it today.
There is a purpose for bringing 'You' here. It is necessary. It has to be done here.
There. A shine amidst the flame. A scent beyond the smoke. A single item amidst this vast treasury that The Wolf has always warned against. Falling from above.
A single kick sends it flying at 'You'. It would have ripped straight through any normal person. 'You' simply catch it in your hand.
'You' almost move to throw it away, but your Vampiric smell makes 'You' pause and see exactly what it is I have given to 'You'.
A single silver tooth.
That is why 'I' brought 'You' here.
A single weapon. A single chance. A single method of killing The Wolf.
If 'I' cannot be killed with that, 'I' will not be killed at all. 'I' refuse.
'You' grip it tightly, your fist trembling around the tiny little object.
Are 'You' frightened? Are 'You' confused? Are 'You' angry?
'You' understand. Comprehension is clear in your eyes.
That is all 'I' need.
The Wolf attacks. 'You' do not even try to run. 'You' take the kick and we both hear the bones snap and muscles tear as your small form is sent flying to the other side of the chamber.
And still, 'You' smile.
"This…isn't…OVER!" 'You' scream as you tear an entire missile out of the wall. "NOT YET IT ISN'T!"
'You' hurl the projectile at me, and it is just as easily broken in half with a single kick. When it predictably explodes, the treasury is filled with smoke and fire, and the stench of burning metal.
But I can still smell 'You'. It is easy to discern your scent from the trash this ship is made of. It would be impossible not to smell 'You' and the blood that made 'You' coming at me from above.
Our eyes meet milliseconds before our fists do.
The force of our blows shatter our bones, burn our muscles, and our limbs practically explode from the exchange.
One arm gone.
It takes little time for either of us to concentrate and mend missing limbs, but the smile on your bloodied face makes it clear that 'You' will not give me that time. 'You' throw another punch with just as much power as the first one.
And just like that first hit, our arms are blown to pieces.
Paying no attention to my own shattered fingers as they are thrown past my face, I throw a kick.
Only to feel your teeth sink into my flesh. I stare, watching my blood flow into 'You'.
A kick that could bring down a building and 'You' catch me with your teeth.
It was so comical that I almost didn't notice the silver tooth 'I' had given to 'You' before fly up in front of my face.
With our arms broken to pieces, there is no way 'You' could have thrown that.
And then I see it.
'You' are The Black King's beautiful Servant-Child. Where he could call upon vast armies of those he had conquered and devoured, it only stands to reason that 'You' are also capable of such a feat.
And I see it. 'I' see him.
The one person whose blood 'You' have consumed. The one to make 'You' into a Vampire who fears and regrets nothing. The one who is a part of 'You' and always will be until the day 'You' die.
"Monsieur Wolfman…" The shadow man grins at me from where your left arm once was, catching the tiny piece of metal as it fell. "Here's payback from someone, somewhere, fifty years ago."
He punches into my ribs. Cutting my dog tag in half as he goes straight through to my heart, he lodges the silver weapon there. And then disappears.
That was all he was needed for. That was all he wanted to do. For 'You', his Mistress.
Legs give out. Blood flows. Can't breathe.
And my back hits the floor.
There was no pain. Only the feeling of intense heat.
There was no fear. Only a peculiar sense of quiet calm.
At long last, I feel it. The long rest that I have waited for is coming for me.
'The Captain' is dying. The Wolf is dying. 'I' am dying.
'You' stand over me, looking down at me with that twilight gaze of yours.
What do 'You' see, standing there?
'The Captain', strong, powerful and fearless?
The Wolf, a creature of the night that has longed to venture beyond its leash?
My tag is broken. My leash has been severed.
What else is there to see?
Who am 'I'? What makes 'the Captain' and The Wolf ME?
It makes no difference to question it anymore.
But looking at 'You', the question remains.
Who are 'You'? What makes 'the Police-Girl' and The Black King's Servant-Child YOU?
Even now, your eyes hold such strength. Even though they are no longer blue, your eyes are so much brighter than anyone else's.
Why? What is it about 'You' that draws me? Why are 'You' so unique?
What is it that 'You' strive to live for? What reason could 'You' possibly have to live so desperately? Where was the meaning in your life?
Though it shouldn't have mattered at this point, with heat filling my insides. And yet, the stillness of my thoughts unexpectedly lit up with comprehension.
'You' endure pain and hardship because 'You' want to Live. 'You' want others to live. 'You' kill enemies, threats to your survival, and the survival of your others.
'I' would have liked to be one of your Others.
I wish it had been you who found me that cold winter day. As obedient as I am to 'Him', I would happily follow you into the fires of Hell.
I was too impatient. I should have waited longer.
If I could have met you first, maybe I would have been happy with my long life.
'I' love 'You'.
'I' love 'You'.
How weak.
How pathetic.
How frightening.
And yet, for the first time in my long memory, I smile.
I smile because it is so ridiculous, and at the same time so wonderful. That 'I', 'the Captain' and The Wolf could discover such a thing at the very end of my life. That 'You', Seras Victoria, my opponent, would give me this weird and wonderful thing at the end of all things.
'I' love 'You'.
'I', 'the Captain' and The Wolf have waited so long to meet 'You'.
You are my death.
You have given me my greatest wish.
So for 'You', 'I' will break my vow of silence.
For 'You', 'I' will sing.
Something snaps and within seconds, my body erupts in a manmade inferno. The Doctor must be watching from somewhere. He must have become fearful.
It is pointless for him to throw the switch. 'I' am dying. Nothing could change that now.
The flames engulf me, but still I howl—I sing for you.
A song that has no words, that fills the air with an emotion I had never known I could feel or create. A song that I leave for you and no one else.
'You', who granted me my wish and gave me a dream. A brief, impossible dream.
'I' love 'You'.
I love you.
I am going. I am fading…
I love you…
I…
…Love…
…You…
"Do you hear it? Ze soft thump of a heart still beating? It's quiet rhythm never stopping…"
Seras could still make out the shape of a large wolf raising its head to the sky. Its howl still echoed in her ears. A resounding, soul-stirring cry that told an entire lifetime's worth of elation in such a short song.
A dark red tear trailed down her alabaster-white cheek, even as her eyes stayed on the flames before her.
She couldn't explain it. She certainly didn't regret killing him, yet she felt as if he had said good-bye to her and no one else just now. Almost as if she might have done more for him in those short hours of warfare than anyone else in his entire life.
It was a strange, ridiculous and somewhat sad notion.
She did not wipe the bloody tear away.
She let it stay, even as she felt the blood of Captain Bernadotte stir to welcome the second to be hidden away inside of her.
The new blood was hot, and very much unlike the mercenary's. But not altogether unpleasant.
There was no awareness to it, no consciousness, but it was still very strong. She could feel a great wealth of knowledge and emotion connected with it. It would not soon fade away. Maybe it would never fade away.
Perhaps later—much, much later— Seras thought that she might be able to sit down and touch that blood lying asleep inside her, wake it up and ask what his song had been meant.