"Huh? Where… where am I?" Seras looked around, but her sight couldn't penetrate the heavy darkness that seemed to hang over her. It was strange; usually, she could see in the dark as well as she could the daylight. But this gloom—it was murky as her master's shadows and thick like fog. She couldn't move well in it.
Suddenly, bright lights flashed on and she winced, hands slapping over her eyes to block out the bright assault on her vision. She blinked rapidly, trying to discern the sounds coming from where there was only silence before. It was applause of some sort; she tried in vain to vanquish the stars from her eyes and view her surroundings. "What the hell's going on?"
She finally was able to see and peered around her to see that she was on some sort of stage, raised high above a table on a cement floor. Behind the table was a partition that gave way to seats, where an entire audience sat clapping and cheering for her. She saw all the soldiers from Hellsing crowded into the seats, and behind them sat the group of old men that formed the Round Table Conference. They were clapping politely, but didn't engage in the whooping and hollering that the soldiers seemed to be fond of.
Above those seats were two balconies. In one balcony, her parents sat beside Commander Fargason. All three of them were calling her name and waving. She blinked in surprise and saw both Captains Henderson and Pickman sitting behind them, applauding her with large smiles. All of them wore halos and tiny white wings.
The other balcony had people in it as well, but not ones that she'd want to see. The two men who'd invaded Hellsing manor and killed almost all the soldiers—the Valentines? — were sitting in the front. The loud-mouthed one turned to the blonde at his side and whispered in his ear, his hands gesturing in such a way that she knew he was talking about her boobs. The spectacled man pursed his lips and shook his head while his brother guffawed. Sitting behind them was the crazy woman that had posed as Sir Integra's sister. She was clapping like the others, but her expression suggested her boredom. Beside her sat Báthory's fledgling who was staring at her with a sense of curiosity, blonde bangs hanging in his eyes.
"Are ye going to perform, or just stand there gaping like a fish?" Seras jerked in surprise at the loud voice and looked down, where three people now sat at the long table. Sir Integra sat on one end, a surly Alucard on the other, and an impatient Paladin Anderson in the middle. She fidgeted under their combined gaze, noting that the cheering had stopped and now everyone was staring at her expectantly. What was she supposed to do?
"Um—er, perform what?" she asked hesitantly. Out of habit, she looked to Alucard for some sign of her objective. He glared at her from under his hat, lips pressed together tightly. She had the distinct impression that he was very angry with her, but she couldn't remember why. Maybe he was just mad because he was sitting next to his archenemy. Sir Integra smiled, her nails drumming impatiently on the table and wrinkling the tablecloth.
"Your talent, Agent Victoria. They don't call it a talent show for nothing, you know."
"We haven't got all day," Anderson added crossly. "Some of us have more pressing things to do." Integra looked at him with a sly smile, scooting closer. He leaned away and almost hit Alucard's shoulder. The vampire growled low in his throat and he turned in the other direction. The look on his face proclaimed that he only just realized the situation he was in. He slumped in defeat, looking more like she was molesting him rather than just putting her hand on top of his.
"Oh. Um—sorry." It was a dream—it had to be a dream. There was no way this would ever happen in real life. The dead didn't come watch her stand onstage; Sir Integra wouldn't commit PDA, no matter how drunk she was; so there was no other logical alternative. She might as well just play along, and see where her subconscious took her. Seras wracked her brain, trying to decide what they wanted from her. She didn't really have any major talents; she was a good shot, but that was more skill than true-born aptitude. She could sing fairly well. Perhaps that's what they wanted?
"I'll be singing a song for you, I think," she said finally. Before she could request a track a familiar melody echoed above her head, sending the soldiers into a wild frenzy. Alucard wrinkled his nose in disgust at the "music"; Seras knew that anything that didn't involve 12 or more hour-long movements didn't register as true music in her master's ears. "Van Halen? Alright then," she muttered under her breath before standing up straight as the lyrics started.
"I get up, and nothing gets me down," she crooned, trying to put some heart into it. "You got it tough; I've seen the toughest around." She never felt more mortified in all her life. Perhaps singing the song on karaoke night wasn't so bad, especially since she had a drunken Stevenson as her air-guitarist; but on her own, in front of everyone she knew? That was crazy! "Can't you see me standing here; I've got my back against the record machine."
The soldiers started clapping the rhythm and shouting the chorus with her before the demo ended and she was left standing on the stage, her face positively vermillion with embarrassment. Sir Integra scribbled something on a piece of paper and held it up for everyone to see: 8.4.
"You sounded a little shaky on the chorus. You can do better," she admonished cheerfully. "Still, it's not so bad." Anderson looked at her number and held up a 9.2 when she lowered her paper.
"I gave you two points for effort. You had yer heart in it," he explained sheepishly. Alucard scowled and didn't bother holding up a sign. His shadows swirled above his head into a neat 0.0 before dissolving into the air. Seras turned a darker crimson, this time from anger. She surely deserved better than nothing!
"Why do you have to be so cruel?" she snapped before she could stop herself and think, one foot stomping the stage angrily. Sir Integra's brows rose beyond her hairline and she elbowed the priest beside her not-too-subtly.
"Cruel? How am I cruel, pray tell?" Alucard straightened, all four of his chair legs hitting the ground as he leaned forward offensively. Seras glowered at him, ignoring the fact that the audience and the other two judges were watching their faceoff with the utmost interest. Integra leaned forward; soaking up the drama eagerly like it was a soap opera.
"You-you force me to do things I'd rather not, you forbid from doing anything that I enjoy; on another matter, I can't have any sort of relationship with anyone else without you being insanely jealous!"
"Furthermore," she hissed, drawing herself up to full height, "you take a sadistic enjoyment of breaking my bones, you love to make me confused; if you want something from me, don't pretend to care for me one day and then throw me off the roof the next without the slightest hint of mercy. I don't like it!" She vented all of her sore feelings that she would never say to the real Alucard. This dream-Master would be gone with the rising of the moon and she'd feel so much better getting it all off her chest. "That's how you're cruel, you twisted prick!"
"You're just as cruel as I am, little girl," he growled, standing up with enough force to knock the chair down behind him. He stalked up to the stage in two large steps, his form growing seemingly larger than life as he shortened the distance between them. He stopped before her, dressed all in black leather with his hair hanging in lanky tendrils between them, the toes of his boots touching hers. She backed away and he followed, filling her vision with nothing but his livid features. "You stand there and accuse me of being cruel and merciless, and yet you've been the largest hypocrite. I give you a new life, sacrifice my time and patience to rear you properly, bend over backwards in order to protect you, and this is my reward?"
She hit the back wall, her hands splaying out on the stones as she tried to think of some way to escape the tirade that was about to rain down on her head. He stopped short and loomed over her, shadows wrapping up the wall behind them to prevent her flight. "I offer you the world on a pedestal, present you with the promise of jewels and other fine things; I sacrifice my own pride to allow you happiness, and I demand nothing but obedience and fidelity in exchange for all that I give. And you stand there and declare me to be cruel. From where I stand, you are the merciless one, Seras."
Seras stood with her mouth open, at a loss for words. Her argument died on her tongue, the words falling flat. For some reason, he didn't seem to be a dream-Alucard anymore. The melancholy barely hidden in his eyes seemed more real than anything she'd seen before. She swallowed and stared up at him, her mind reeling.
"But—but you didn't mean any of it," she protested weakly, somehow feeling as though she'd made a big mistake. He backed away from her, vanishing along with the stage and all the people into the impermeable darkness once more.
"Is that truly what you think of me?" the sentence was sighed, as if he had come to terms with her innermost feelings. She wanted to beg for him to wait, yet she could do nothing but shut her eyes and let the darkness press her down.
"My my, Miss Victoria. You're certainly glum today." Walter eyed her askance, his expression pensive. "Did your little seduction not go as planned?" he teased. Seras looked up from her bowl of blood vacantly at him before sighing.
"No. I gave up. It's just not worth it; I don't even know what I was thinking," she answered dolefully as she took another spoonful. Walter continued his rudimentary straightening of her space, watching her more closely. She was still in her pajamas even though it was well after midnight. Her hair was unkempt, face unwashed, feet bare, and eyes dull. She was eating mechanically, as if she didn't even taste her meal. She looked horrid, really. Walter frowned slightly. She looked as if she just didn't care; as if she were utterly depressed and didn't feel like bothering with life at the moment.
"Miss Victoria, is everything alright," he said suddenly, before he had time to think about it and how blunt of a question it was. "You know you can talk to me about anything," he added. "Anything you say will be in confidence, if you wish." Seras looked at him, sighing and nodding.
"I know, Walter. Thanks." She turned back to her meal and robotically sipped from the spoon. Taking it as a silent dismissal, Walter patted her shoulder comfortingly before leaving. He walked down the two steps that led to the deeper basement and down the hall, the ever present chill seeming to be even colder this day. He reached Alucard's chambers and knocked, waiting for permission to enter as he did every night. The door swung open silently and he proceeded forward, stopping when he realized what Alucard was doing.
He had all of his belongings piled in the chair and was currently in the process of rearranging the furniture. His coffin stood neatly out of the way along the far end of the wall next to the door of the never-used bathroom, which was always half-covered by a hanging tapestry that came from somewhere upstairs. Alucard pushed his heavy chair like it was nothing with his foot, moving it to the side of the room before turning and moving it back again, apparently changing his mind.
"It looks like you need a break," Walter started, feeling awkward. In the years he'd known Alucard, the vampire never changed his room around. Yes, he pretended to rearrange it, but that was only when he was thinking very hard on something and needed to be kept occupied. Clearly pacing didn't do much for him, so he stuck to moving his furniture all around the room before putting it back in the same spot he'd always had it.
"I suppose," Alucard answered cooly as he paused his work and walked over to take the chilled bucket from the butler's hands. "I've been busy since nightfall, and have neglected my hunger," he added, taking a packet from the bucket and eyeing it ravenously.
"Work will make you famished," Walter conceded with a nod. He walked around to look at the stacks of books near the doorway, picking up the top one and flipping through the pages of what looked like ancient rites. "I just came from Miss Victoria's room," he began, trying to maintain a nonchalant, conversational tone. "She seems to be a bit under the weather today."
"Oh?" Alucard sounded about as disinterested as the butler did, but Walter knew better. He may be a semi-forgetful elderly man, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that the ancient vampire had something to do with Seras' gloomy mood; she wasn't like that normally.
"Yes, she was clearly despondent, but she refused to tell me what the problem was. I wonder if she'll even venture from her room tonight," Walter mused. "Perhaps I should let Sir Integra know that she may be taking a day off." This caught the vampire's full attention.
"So she's moping around in her bedroom, is she? Well, we can't have a vampire doing that." He grinned savagely and Walter didn't have the heart to tell him that he was technically doing the same thing, banging around in his room with the furniture. "Don't tell my master anything. I'll make sure that the Police Girl emerges for the night, one way or another." Walter couldn't miss the waves of malicious energy rolling off the words.
"Do you really believe that to be best? Especially since you've been fighting on and off the past few days?" he asked. Alucard tilted his head down, glasses sliding down his nose to reveal dark eyes. Oh, so it's about vengeance. I should have known, Walter thought in despair. He felt horrible for accidentally setting the poor girl up for punishment, but he knew better than to interfere between the vampires. He didn't want to die at Alucard's hands. He backed away, leaving the pail with the vampire.
"Don't worry about us, Walter. I can handle anything that little girl dishes out," Alucard promised. "And I can return it tenfold; if that's the way she wants to play." Walter bowed and made his way out of the room and to the upper levels, peering at Seras' closed door. That's the problem, Alucard. I think she's through "playing" now.
"Well now Police Girl, what's the matter?" He stood at the foot of her bed, watching her stare at the ceiling. He knew that she knew he was there, but was just ignoring him. He didn't like the thought of that, of her purposefully disregarding his presence. Besides, it was just as Walter said; she wasn't dressed or even washed, although by her scent it was clear she'd showered last night.
"Have you forgotten that it's nighttime?" he half-teased, wanting to see her sit up and yell at him. She had in her dreams that day, her eyes shimmering with unhidden anger at his supposed "cruel treatment" of her. He'd woken after feeling her anger through their mental bond and had slipped into his dream-self, only to hear the accusations with a sense of growing fury. He'd shouted back at her, livid at how she blatantly ignored all that he had given her and focused only on his short temper and punishments. Then, her one sentence had undone all his rage, leaving him feeling strangely empty inside.
"But—but you didn't mean any of it." She'd been honest; he had searched her eyes for any trace of deceit. She had truly thought that all of his offers, everything she'd flippantly turned down, were nothing more than him teasing her. He hadn't really known what to think of that. It was true, she was often the brunt of his mockery and most of the time she set herself up for it, but surely she could tell the difference between jests and seriousness. Couldn't she?
It made him think. He had sat in his chair, tapping his boots impatiently on the ground as he thought back over the whole year. Every time they'd been together, all the things he'd told her, all of her replies. He couldn't find a solid answer, and it made him uneasy. He began to roam around his room, not even thinking about what he was doing. It was only when Walter knocked on the door did he surface from his contemplations to see that he'd turned his room upside down.
Now he stood and watched her lay on her coffin, staring at the ceiling as if there were nothing better to do.
"Go away," she said finally. "Leave me alone." She sounded emotionless, drained.
"I'm afraid that's not an option. Now you can get up and get dressed, or I will dress you. I assure you, what's fun for me will not be the same for you," he warned her with a cruel grin. She sat up and looked at him, her eyes listless.
"Just go and fuck yourself, okay?" she muttered before grabbing the remote that controlled her bed off the table, hitting the button and lowering herself into the ground. He let her go all the way into the ground before giving a low whistle.
"Fetch." A moment later, Seras was dragged out by a horde of shadow beasts, her eyes finally showing a spark of anger as she glared at him from her spot on the carpet. She pulled herself up and walked over to him, her eyes boring into his. He smiled at her, only to have it literally slapped off his face as she hit him hard enough to jerk his head sideways.
"I said to leave me alone!" she snarled. He grabbed her hand, turning it palm-up and pulling backwards until she was forced on her tiptoes by the pain. He bent down nose-to-nose with her.
"I am exercising the utmost patience with you, girl. Don't you forget that. Don't do that again, unless you want to lose an arm." She didn't reply, but the look in her eyes said enough. He twisted her arm around behind her back, marching her over to her clothes-cupboard. "I think you enjoy forgetting exactly who I am. And I'm getting weary of reminding you." He stopped before the cupboard, his other arm going up to capture her chin and forcing her to stare into the mirror on its surface. "Who am I?"
"You're Alucard," she answered after a stubbornly tense moment. He shook her head with his hand, leaning down to growl into her ear as his fingers tightened painfully on her jaws.
"Who. Am. I." She fought for a moment, trying to get away and only succeeding in twisting her own arm further. Finally she hissed in frustration and locked eyes with him in the mirror.
"You're my master," she ground out in exasperation. He sneered at her, nodding.
"And who are you?" he continued.
"I'm your fledgling," she answered in defeat.
"Good girl," he purred in her ear. His hand left her chin, but he didn't dare let her go. She was like a mouse; he'd caught her, but if he relaxed his grip she'd escape and scurry away. She'd not make the same mistake this time of hiding in her bed—she'd go straight to Sir Integra and have him forbidden to mess with her. He reached up and ran his fingers gently through her hair. "Was that so hard?" When she didn't answer, he yanked. "I said: Was that so hard?"
"No!" she yelped, her eyes scrunching from the pain. He immediately let go and continued the softer caresses.
"Answer me when I speak to you. You're getting too out of line; it's time you remembered that your place is in my shadow." Seras mumbled under her breath and he yanked again, hearing enough to understand her meaning. "What did you just say to me?" She arched her back over her arm, gritting her teeth against the pain.
"I said that this is a fine way to treat someone that you're supposed to care about!" she shouted before giving a screech. "You're going to pull my hair out; stop it!" He let go long enough to spin her around, nose-to-nose once more.
"How dare you." Every word dripped venom, but she didn't even flinch. She tossed back her bangs as best she could in his grip, her own free hand coming up to try and push his face away.
"I'm just saying what needs to be said. You have no idea how to be kind or caring; all you know is how to be vicious and inhuman!"
"I'm not human! You're not human!" he shouted back, his arm gripping hers hard enough for the bones to crack. "I'm just being what I am!"
"No, you're being what you want to be. What you are and what you want other people to see you as are two different things, Master." She looked up at him, more sadly now. "I just wish you could pay more attention to that."
"I don't know what fantasy that you live in, where you think that I'm some sort of good-natured sod." She sighed and went limp in his arms, her eyes becoming resolved.
"Fine. I'll play your pretty little servant, if that's what you want." He let her go and she immediately walked to her cupboard and pulled out a clean uniform.
"That's more like it," he said as he turned to leave, unable to shake the feeling that he just started something that wouldn't end the way either of them wanted it to.
"You're back." Anderson almost jumped out of his socks. He turned to see Integra sitting up in bed, looking with a frown at his stained gloves. "Don't stand and drip, go get cleaned up." He obediently walked to the bathroom, bloody boots in hand. He sat them in the tub before methodically cleaning the blood off his weapons, clothes, and then finally himself with a nice hot shower. He sat his things up to dry and walked out to find her still sitting in the bed, but at least she'd turned the light on now.
"I thought you were asleep," he accused. "It's early in the morning." She shrugged and leaned back against the pillows, watching him put his wet boots by the door and come over to the bed.
"I woke up when you walked in. Everything went alright?" He gave her a strange look as he pulled the sheets over himself and lay against the pillows with a weary grunt.
"I wouldn't be here if it didn't." She winced, hoping he meant that he'd still be out fighting, instead of that he'd be dead. "There were more of them than we thought there'd be," he said, explaining why he was so late. She nodded and flipped the light off before lying down beside him.
"Well, as long as you got it taken care of," she finally said. "It was a very quiet day here. I have to say; I enjoyed it. I'm not used to all this fighting and fretting." She curled around his arm and closed her eyes. Truth be told, she sort of missed the heavy warmth.
Afterword: Poor Integra. Sometimes she doesn't know what goes on right below her feet, does she? And what of the Countess? I wonder how her plan doth go? And what of the issue of money? Who will take care of all that?
So: I'm having surgery on the 13 of February, and I'll be out of commission for three weeks or so. Hopefully, I can get another chapter in before then, but if I don't, you'll know where I am. Tootle-oo!