Fifty-Two

/

She was 52 years old. She had practically given up hope. She didn't think he would return. It had been long. Far too long. Yet here he was, hungrily drinking from her hand, desperately trying to remain in control as he had the sweetest, most fulfilling meal of his un-life.

She was old. This was obvious. The mirror did not lie to her. It reminded her that time did its work on every human, and she now had to bow down to it and accept fate. The wrinkles reminded her of Walter. Of the person she once held dear to her heart.

She would not be like him. She would not take the coward's way out. She would accept, embrace death.

It would be harder now. Harder that her Count had returned. She could see it plainly. The want in his eyes. The need for more. More of her. Had she been younger, stupider, who knew what would have become of that moment. Something regrettable.

"I am so tired." He spoke after licking her wound shut. God, how he wanted more of it. More of her rich, delectable blood. There would be more some other time. For now, sleep.

She did not want to tell him to return to his coffin at that moment. She wished he would stay. To keep her company as she rested. It was silly to her, the thought of wanting him near, and yet she wanted it. "Go rest, Alucard." The silent promise to see each other come the morning was not lost. They would pick up where they left off.

Suddenly, it was as if he'd never left.

/

He had killed three million, four hundred, twenty-four thousand, eight hundred sixty-seven lives within himself. All but one. And here he was. He was here because he wanted to be here. He was everywhere but nowhere. He was here.

He stayed by his master, reflecting upon how age suited her perfectly. "You are beautiful." He commented, she smirked,

"Coming onto old women, now?"

"Master." He grinned. She had missed that grin. The playful, teasing smile. The void had been filled. The light was back in her life. Nothing was missing. The Servant who obeyed only her. The Friend who stood by only her. "How did you lose it?"

She had spent so long crafting lies to tell young Sir Penwood that the truth did not come swiftly. The memory of losing her eye to that mechanical terror. It was a sickening thought. She much preferred her lie. Losing her eye to the knife of Sir Penwood, England's hero. If only.

"The fat Major."

"When I meet him in hell, he will regret ever existing." The vampire glowered, "No circle of hell will be more terrifying than me." It was almost childlike the way he jumped to defend her. He was late. Far too late. She could only grin and shake her head. "Walter?"

"Gone." From the corner Seras flinched. Walter was a sore subject, "Everything is over, Alucard. You are very late." He was sorry. He had told her. He was sorry, a million times sorry. He hurried back as soon as he could. And here he was.

"My only wish was to be here." He bowed his head

"Better late than never." His master noted, "I am glad you're back, Count."

"As am I, Countess."

/

She was older, yes, but nonetheless beautiful to him. The wrinkles suited her. The eyepatch made her more foreboding, attractive. She was his perfect master. She never lost her grace, though acted slower. Took more time to think. She did not smoke anymore, an odd sight to him. She was herself. She was his master.

His subordinate. The police girl. Seras Victoria. The servant who loved only him, for there was no one else for her to love. She kept him company while his Master slept. He had missed her childish antics, though they lessened, it seemed, with age. She was still herself. She was still his subordinate. His draculina.

He had little desire to kil. He stayed by his Master's side during missions, allowing Seras to take the work. She did not complain. Integra did not complain. She found his company suited her perfectly. His joking made her smile. "Damn you, my crows feet are deep enough!" She was so concerned about her age. She could not see the beauty in it that he could.

She could not understand the regret he had.

Sometimes he found himself pushing his luck. He'd never attempted before. "Might Master's humble servant have a taste of her blood?" He asked nicely. He only wanted a taste. She complied. Those moments were blissful. All he could ever ask for. He needed it. He needed all he could get before…

Before.

He needed to remember. Remember her. Remember the taste. Remember.

His perfect master.

/

"You have no successor?" He inquired. He hadn't expected her to marry. She never came off at that type. No, she was independent. But the company was everything to her. Hellsing was her everything.

"No." She stated, "Hellsing will die with me." He never thought a single statement could carry so much weight.

"Then who? What?"

"Penwood. They are learning. I am teaching them. It won't be easy, but they will take over." She paused, thinking, "Then perhaps the government. The world is changing. There is no need for the likes of this." She gestured around her, "No need to worry about organizations being run by young girls by their lonesome." There was sadness in her voice.

"You had Walter. You had me."

"Walter…" Her expression turned sour. That man. She hated what he did to her. This Alucard knew.

"Perhaps," He started, "Perhaps he did not choose what happened." He chose his words carefully, "Perhaps he had been forced." It was only a theory. Even he did not know.

"Forced."

"My Master acts like a parrot sometimes." His joke fell on deaf ears. She had loved Walter. He had always been there as long as she could remember. And then he betrayed her. There was something she did not understand. Could not understand.

"It is over, Alucard." She whispered

"Yes."

/

On weekends she would fence. It was one of the few hobbies she enjoyed anymore. She took great satisfaction in besting the younger crowd during matches. "Come, Sir Penwood, let this old woman show you how to really fence!" And then she would tell the young Penwood made up tales of his grandfather, and how he was truly England's Angel. She was becoming quite the storyteller in her old age.

From the sides the vampires would often watch. Sometimes they would throw a joke, and she would throw her sword. It was all in good fun, and Integra's temper cooled fast. "Master is as spry as ever." Alucard might say. How that vampire annoyed her. She enjoyed every moment of it.

Alucard was now in her life again, but Seras had rooted herself in it as well. Together the three spent evenings together, enjoying the company. Enjoying the silence or the talking, whichever came naturally.

Seras felt uneasy. Here was her master, whom she loved very much. And here was her master's master, whom she also loved very much. What would happen when Integra finally…

What would happen to her master's long-dead heart?

What would happen to her?

Sometimes her anxieties were too much and she would think of ways to force Integra into changing. Changing so none of this would ever end. "I don't want Master Integra to die." She was bitter about it. Bitter that time could take away so much.

"I'm hardly dead yet, not even a foot in the grave." Integra growled, "My God, don't bury me yet." The girl nodded solemnly, her Master shook his head.

"Oh police girl. Always causing trouble for Master."

It was not something he wanted to think about either. It was inevitable, but still he tried to ignore it.

Death was such an uneasy subject for three who knew it so well.