LeonLocke, the Leonine protector, glared at the phone on his desk. He knew the long distance code to reach the Hellsing manor, yet knew better than to call his sister.
Instead, he picked up the receiver and dialled Walter Dornez's private room. His heart pounded in his chest as the phone rang once, twice and a third time, before the phone picked up.
"Hello? Who is this?" Came the answer from the other end, an elderly Englishman who seemed perturbed and worried.
"Walter, it's me." There was a brief gasp, and Walter nearly said his name, yet stopped. "I'm alright, things are being fixed, and the BPRD has gone public, as I'm certain you've heard. Do not let Alucard or Integra come here, not yet. There is no need, as the BPRD is doing fine here, and I need time to fix a mess that was generated due to Trevor Bruttenholm's premature death." Locke paused, sighing. "Hang on for me. Did you give her the painting?"
"Yes. She knew what you meant, and still wants to know where you are. She keeps a close eye on the movements of any vampires currently being tracked, expecting one of them to be you." He whispered, concern and some relief in his voice.
"I know, though her lack of faith in my resolve is troubling. Alucard needs to be watched, and don't worry, I'll come when things have been fixed and an agreement with the BPRD and American government can be extended to the Hellsing Organization and England." Another pause. "I'm so sorry I wasn't able to be there, I heard about the growing appearance of vampires and ghoul infestations in England. Not to mention the attack."
"Nothing we couldn't handle, though there was one who seemed to be a purposeful mockery of you… Mailing is the same as always?" Walter chuckled, referring to the mail that Locke received at a private Post Box that would be forwarded to the BPRD, an address Walter had kept in case something lead Locke to the Bureau. Locke smiled, chuckling.
"Yes. Take care old friend. I'll keep in touch."
"Take care, your father would be proud." Walter added, the line cutting off after a moment. Locke hung up the phone, nodding, a smile on his face.
"Thank you Walter. I just hope Alucard did not manage to get any of that... Blasted parrot." Locke chuckled to himself, moving to slip into his coffin, the black surface now clean of any blood smears, as well as the floor and the hall leading up into the main compound. He slipped inside easily, pulling the lid closed and getting comfortable, his wings a bit stiff and sore after being without them for such a long time. He held them close, the feathers cushioning him as he settled, the flesh still healing and raw where they attached to his back. He soon slept soundly, for the first time in over ten years.
Little did he know, Alucard had indeed been listening in on Walter's conversation, and grinned his signature shark-like grin as he slipped into Integra's office unseen. She seemed aware of his presence long before he materialized, the blinds on the windows drawn to create near night-like conditions in the room. Integra fingered the pistol on the desk next to her, lazily looking at the door.
Alucard loomed up beside her, slowly moving as though to bite her throat.
"I thought I told you to go and assist the workers with the reconstruction." She asked, deftly and with a blindingly swift movement, training the gun at his face. He chuckled moving away, albeit reluctantly.
"Someone called Walter's private number." He replied, grin never fading.
"And?"
"Only your brother has that number that would possibly be calling from another country." His grin widened when she jumped slightly, head snapping up and looking at him with a look of shock.
"What did you hear?" She demanded, shaking lightly, eyes wider than usual.
"It was him, I am certain. I didn't hear anything that could have given it away. He knows you're still searching for him." Alucard's expression turned grim, seeing the hope and happiness in her eyes, having enjoyed having her to himself. As she turned to the papers before her again, thinking on possibilities of where he could possibly be, Walter stepped into the room with a tray with biscuits and tea. Walter seemed unphased by her glare and the signature grin upon Alucard's face alerted him immediately to what was going on.
He sighed, placing the tray on the desk and taking a step back.
"Yes, your brother contacted me. He did not tell me where he is staying, nor gave any indication as to where he's been."
"Is he coming back?" Integra's voice didn't change in pitch, and most would have figured she did not care, but Walter's careful ear discerned the hope in her words.
"Not immediately. He did mention things are improving, but I know not what he is referring to." Walter stated, matching her gaze evenly. She nodded, waving a hand.
"Go, both of you... I need some time to think." Alucard faded away, Walter leaving after giving a brief bow.
Integra rose from her desk and walked to the window, moving aside the curtain, narrowing her eyes to the glare as she gazed out at the garden. Her thoughts went back to the last time she had been there.
She had been a mere child, and it was well after dark, so her brother could be with her, as he couldn't stand up to the sun without being burned horribly. She idly remembered he had nearly bitten her, and he fled from her. She didn't understand then what had happened, and knew now that he had been protecting her from himself. He'd become the monster Alucard made him, as much as he fought to keep from doing so.
If he was a liability to her, how could she allow him to continue outside of her sight and be a liability to others? What if he was the reason for the recent rash of vampire sightings and ghoul infestations?
What if he had been the one to sire the two that had nearly destroyed their home? Luke Valentine had almost been a clone of him in appearance, though pale where he retained the bronze skin their mother had passed on to them.
Integra shook her head to clear it. She had too little faith in her brother's strength and morals. He would sooner die than harm another living being, he had deeply regretted being forced to kill the two men who had helped their uncle, and did not ever want to taste fresh blood. He had been content with the admittedly bland and nearly expired donated blood, and did not ever ask for more.
She leaned against the wall, still gazing out into the garden.
"Leon, where are you? Where have you been?" She asked the nothingness around her.