(A/N: How are there so few WalterXFemale!Alucard in existence? I think that their relationship is fascinating, both how it began and how it ended. Or perhaps I am merely, as my friend tells me, a very melancholic sadist. I can't really argue in this case, as I think Alucard and Walter are the most depressing couple I've written so far. So go! Share my sorrow! Also, 'fag' is a British term for cigarette, just to get that confusion out of the way.)

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Walter quite enjoyed Yale when it was all but deserted over the holidays. With most students having returned home to their families, the stillness, the emptiness, made him feel free. A deep silence fell upon the place with each new layer of snow, dampening his memories of gunfire, tank engines, screaming…

Such was his tranquil mood as he stood before his dormitory window, watching the snowfall of another night, casually puffing on a cigarette. He would be alone in his dorm room for several days yet, before his roommate returned from Wales. Or so he thought.

"How are you faring, being a boy among other boys?"

Her voice jarred him so much he flinched drastically – slamming right up against the window and snapping his fag in half. Her laugh was salt in the wound.

"Oh my, your reflexes have gone to shit now you're leading the happy civilian life."

Alucard was sitting on his bed, wearing a smart skirt-and-cardigan ensemble. She had apparently aged as he had since last they met, appearing in her late teens or early twenties.

"How can you be in here?!" He all but shouted, massaging his forehead where it had made abrupt contact with the cold glass. "I don't recall inviting you in!"

"You don't need to." She gestured at the room. "This place is no one's home, there's nothing stopping me from crossing this threshold as easily as hundreds of students have done before me."

"Lovely." He turned back to the window. "Now that you've taken ten years off my life, was there something you wanted?"

"I was in the area. Only decent thing to do is say hello."

"In the area? Are you on assignment?"

She arched a thin, dark brow. "That eager to jump back into the fray, Angel?"

"Hardly."

"Mmm." The single syllable radiated disbelief, but she gave no further voice to her skepticism. "Since you guessed it anyway, yes, I am in fact here on work. Bit of a rough assignment this time, probably will take a while."

"Indeed. Good luck with that."

Silence fell. Her white garments cast no reflection in the window, so he neither saw nor heard her move, as she crossed the room, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. Though her actions surprised him, he didn't flinch this time.

"You've never been more lonely, have you?" Her voice was barely a whisper, lips cool against his ear. "Being here, I bet you're the model student. You can turn out good marks in your sleep, but can't do what they do. You can't be what they are. Just another normal person among the same."

For a moment he was as frozen as the grounds outside. Then he turned, pushing her off him roughly.

"You dare eavesdrop on the privacy of my mind? The insufferable nerve of you!"

"Not at all." Her voice was still very quiet. "Why would I? It's very obvious just to look at you."

"If you cared at all for how I'm faring here, you would stay away." He passed her, crossing the room and opening the door. "Goodbye, Alucard."

She inclined her head as though in deference, although her face was as unreadable as ever. She exited through the door, and although he had seen her pass silently and phantom-like through solid walls, he could hear her footsteps retreating down the darkened hall. He shut and locked the door behind her.

As though it does any bloody good.

Although his placid mood was shattered, he turned again to watch the falling snow outside. Presently, he saw her exiting the building far below him, clothes white as the falling snow, her hair an inky column down her back.

Although she did not turn to look up at him, he realized that she knew he was watching her. Purposely allowing him to see her leave in the banal human fashion, when other more efficient means of transport were readily available to her.

The nerve. The insufferable nerve.

He turned away from the window and stood for a moment in the darkened room, looking with unseeing eyes at his own shadow cast by the scant light from the window.

Then he was moving, grabbing his coat, hat and gloves and putting them on as he half-ran down the hall and stairwell. The night air was a slap in the face. The snow crunched under his feet as he followed the footsteps she had deliberately left behind.

"So." He breathed in a cloud of fog as he caught up with her. "Where are we going?"

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(A/N: There will be more. This is just an appetizer. There might even be a plot. Or maybe just philosophical angst. Thanks for reading!)