Lots of hits, one fav and two reviews, in only two days, so I decided to write a second chapter anyway. That way you guys have some more to read. And I feel the writing bug knocking on my door... You may notice that I will hop around on character point of view. Fear not, I believe most of this will take place in Integra's head with varying once in awhile. But not even I know. We'll see where it goes... so here we go.

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Chapter 2: All's Fair in Love and War

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Bombs blasting, that familiar high pitched wail as they hurtled towards earth like some kind of twisted fallen angel of fire and shrapnel. Bullets blazing every which way from nowhere, and everywhere, from trenches and holes, behind trees and rocks and from craters still smoking with ash and flesh. War was glorious. Through the smoke, he could see him walking, silver threads shining in the air, lit up by loads dropped by the bomb carriers. His angel of death...

"Walter..." Alucard whispered, stirring in his coffin, then frowning. Why that memory, now? It was... noon... he shifted slightly, crossing his arms over his chest and blinking wearily. He had not the will to face that blasted orb of light, not right now... there was no reason to rise. It'd be best to wait til he was summoned. And yet, part of him feared what else he'd see... to dwell in the past... none of it mattered now, so why did it irk him so?

He rose swiftly, and covered his coffin with the greatest care before allowing himself to stretch. So it was the afternoon... yet again... and still he could not rest. He dwelled upon the war for a few moments before wandering over to the table where fresh plasma was resting in ice. An extra bag, too. And, something else; a note.

'Alucard,

I know you don't keep track of the days, as such a thing at your age is rather trivial. But I thought it a special day to celebrate, and remember; happy anniversary, may all our battles be as memorable as this one.

Walter'

"Ah. So that is why that memory..." he said to himself as he settled down into his chair, relaxing for the moment, "Touching." he tore into the plasma with his teeth, then allowed it to pour into the ready glass.

Touching. His mind flashed to the night before... with Integra so close... so perfect... why did she turn him down again? It was frustrating. He took a sip from the glass and almost gagged. He knew it wouldn't keep unless it was kept on ice, but to hell if he'd ever manage to enjoy it cold. It was much better hot and steamy, boiled by adrenaline, lust or fear. He took the rest of the glass like it was cough syrup and took the other bag off the ice. But it would never be as good as fresh blood... and he hadn't had the pleasure since... that reporter.

Oh, but she enjoyed that, even though he was draining every last bit of life from her body. He could remember it like it was yesterday... and the Police Girl... he would bet his life that he probably could have coaxed her to join him. But even though it didn't get that far, at least once she arrived home she drank the blood she'd been given. That was progress yet. And Integra... he could have sworn the thought crossed her mind, too. To be in his arms. And to drink the blood. She wanted it.

He cut open the second bag and poured it into the glass, frowning. So why, now, still, that her life had been threatened countless times, and that every day she took a step closer to death, did she still refuse his offer? Based on principle? Morals? He knew she took them to heart; she wanted to make her father proud, bring honor to the Hellsing name. She'd done that. But would it bring dishonor to succumb to the family pet? Perhaps... and perhaps that's what she feared. Or else, she'd fear, she'd become just... like... him. Perhaps.

He'd never been able to wander as freely through her thoughts as she assumed. He'd told her that. She was strong, very strong, stronger than any woman he'd known. He was only able to glance off the top, whatever she happened to be thinking at the time, and occasionally a passing thought or memory, but never dig through every corner. Nor did he believe it to be possible. The human mind, a vast and delicate thing. It could easily be broken. And he would not do that to his Master.

The blood was a bit more bearable lukewarm, at least, not ice cold. Thinking more of Integra, it seemed almost... bitter-sweet. He was so close... he closed his eyes. Her scent... her fear... the way she shivered when he came near... so close... and she wanted, and would have let him bite her, if he had not been so hasty. He'd startled the prey, and it had leapt to safety in time, leaving him alone and embarrassed, shut down. Defeated.

"Round one is your's, Master..." he quietly toasted the air before finishing the glass and departing the room.