Hellsing isn't mine, so sad, so I'm stealing it for this fic without permission, and I apologize.

Moonlit Midnight

Chapter 2: Just a Little Frisky

Integra exhaled a trail of smoke, her pale eyes shifting over the soldiers that wove in an out of Hellsing's corridors. "How is it, Walter?" she asked, not averting her gaze.

"Everything seems to be in order," he replied crisply. "The supplies have been properly stored, and bunk assignments arranged. I believe Mr. Zimmerman was looking for you earlier."

Her eyebrows perked. "Is that so." A tiny smile curled the edge of her lips. "Well, I'm a busy woman, after all. What about Varjak?"

"Joan Varjak has been assigned to the second floor. So far there have been no reported incidents."

"Well, the night is young. Perhaps I'll ask her to join one of our patrols." She snorted. "Get her out of our hair for a while. Jacob will definitely hear from me about bringing her. I don't need her harassing my officers."

"It might be best to warn Agent Victoria," Walter suggested.

"Alucard will look after her well enough." Satisfied, she turned back towards her office. "Speaking of which, make sure those two are taken are of. I'll be in my office if I'm needed."

Walter nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."

Integra made her way back to her office ion the third floor, finishing her cigar along the way. IT was good to hear the institute alive with so many soldiers again, even if not all of them were hers. If she had felt any resentment about accepting Mithril 6's assistance, it had faded with the relief of her knights. For now, at least, she was willing to forgo arrogance, if it put her own at ease.

She knew someone had beaten her to her office long before flicking the door open. "Make yourself at home," she remarked dryly as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

Jacob smiled innocently. He was leaning against her desk, legs crossed casually at the ankle and arms folded. It was exactly the way he should have looked—boyish, confident, with a few strands of thin brown hair straying too far over his face no matter how he combed it. After all this time it was comforting to know that some things never changed.

"I thought you'd be back here eventually," Jacob said. "Pardon the intrusion."

"Your people have taken over my entire institute," Integra replied easily as she circled about her office chair. "A few more intrusions won't hurt."

Jacob turned slightly, uncrossing his arms so he could lean on his hands. Every movement of his was smooth and casual, with the kind of lazy grace only someone as skilled as him could well manage. "At least everyone seems to be getting along," he offered. "Our mission so far has been a success."

"So far," she echoed. She leaned forward on her elbows, hands folded. "Speaking of which, there was a particular matter I wanted to discuss."

Jacob lifted a hand. "If it's about Varjak, there's nothing I can do," he told her truthfully. "She's one of our best agents, and Sanfeld insisted she be here. Even if he hadn't, she would have found a way."

"If she becomes a problem," Integra replied firmly, "I will ship her home personally. Hellsing Institute has not forgotten how she attacked one of our officers the last time she was here."

"Integra. We both know she could not have possibly done Alucard any harm."

She snorted around a humorous smirk. "That's not the point."

"Yes, I know. I've already talked to her." He paused. "But I'm not here to discuss business."

Integra raised an eyebrow curiously, as if she had not quite grasped his meaning. "Oh? What else is there?"

Jacob smiled, and two fingers traced the edge of the desk as he moved around it. Integra pushed back slightly so that she could face him. His eyes were gleaming—she couldn't pretend not to know what he was thinking. "I've missed you," he said, leaning his hip against the desk.

Integra met his gaze unfaltering, her face even. "It's been a while," she agreed.

Jacob reached out boldly to trace the line of her jaw with his fingertips. And when she did not react—did not even blink—he chuckled. "Still as stubborn as ever, I see. You're quite a woman, Integra."

This time she did blink—slowly and deliberately. "I have to be."

Jacob's smile sobered, and he leaned forward, setting a hand on her chair's armrest. Integra did not protest—indeed, tilted her chin just slightly—as he pressed a kiss against her lips. And though she had not intended to give him the satisfaction of a returned advance, she moved slightly against his mouth. It had, after all, been a long time for them both, and…she had missed him, if only a bit.

Pleased by his long awaited success, Jacob edged closer, trailing his kiss along her jaw, the space below her ear. One hand snaked around the base of her neck. Integra still refused to give him much more than a subtle incline of her chin, but when his lips ventured lower—over the scar in her throat—she gasped quietly and twisted out of his reach.

It was too late; he had seen. And before she could stop him he had tugged it free of her white shirt. "What's this? That…wasn't from a vampire, was it?"

Integra slapped his hand away, smoothing her collar over the pale marking. "It's nothing."

Jacob frowned at her uncharacteristically abrupt reaction. "It looks like a knife wound."

"I said it was nothing." She urged him back under the guise of seeking another cigar. She had hoped the smoke would calm her somewhat, but found no such luck. Jacob didn't have to know everything—she had no intention of explaining herself to him. But she would not lie to him, either.

Jacob snorted quietly. "I thought we were through with these games."

"Do I look like I'm playing?"

"All right, all right." Jacob took a step back, surrendering. "I know this isn't the best time, anyway."

"Naturally." Integra straightened her suit unnecessarily. "But you owe me a briefing," she reminded him. "For this morning."

"That I do." Being careful to hide his disappointment, Jacob also adjusted his attire and glance at the commander. "I'll see you at dawn, then?"

Integra nodded. The time would at least give her the chance to prepare herself. Dealings with Jacob were, after all, never anything less than vigorous. The thought made her smirk. "At dawn, then. I'll expect some answers."

"And I'll have plenty to give," he replied in earnest, backing towards the door. "Aren't I always good to you?"

Integra watched his departure with a look of subtle amusement. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Of course, of course. Until morning."

Jacob exited at last, closing the office door behind him. Once alone he released a sigh. It was almost embarrassing, the things that woman did to him—he knew he wouldn't be able to think straight all night. And perhaps that wasn't such an awful proposal. With a chuckle he turned to rejoin his comrades, only to find his path blocked by a familiar figure. "Ah, Alucard. I thought I might be running into you. Spying on us again?"

"Hardly necessary, is it?" the vampire chuckled.

Jacob snorted. "Stick around longer," he joked as he started down the hall, "and you'll have a fine enough show."

Alucard followed begrudgingly, and the American bit back a grin. He loved to tease Hellsing's loyal guard dog—Heaven forbid a vampire king should be called upon to perform a task as mundane as "walking." But Alucard seemed determined to best him. "Perhaps I will. Then I'll be there when you tell her about the fourth vehicle arriving this morning, which I wasn't supposed to know about."

Jacob lifted an eyebrow in appreciation. "And I'm sure you'll find that really funny."

"Don't think that just because the sun is up, I won't figure out what you're up to," Alucard warned through a grin. "You're a long way from home."

"I'll be careful." Alucard really knew nothing after all—not the real reason they were here, not what he was planning. And for now, it was better that way; he did, after all, admittedly like Alucard, and was doing his best to protect him. Should a being such as Alucard even require protection.

"If you're playing us," Alucard continued, his tone playful, "Integra will have you all gutted, you know."

"She's been telling me that for the last ten years," Jacob replied. "And I've never lied to her. I'm going to marry that woman someday, you know." He stopped at the stairway. "So why don't you leave Integra to me, hmm?" But when he turned to see the vampire's response, he found that Alucard had already left.

"Jacob Zimmerman has been a personal friend of our Lady Integra for many years," Walter explained as he finished arranging the blood supplies in Hellsing's lower level. Celas was seated on a row of cabinets nearby, feet dangling as she sucked happily on her evening meal. "His father was the former commander of Mithril 6. But when his parents tragically died and the Institute fell into the hands of Mr. Sanfeld, they distanced themselves from Hellsing.

"Why?" Celas asked curiously. It was so rare that Integra seemed to get along with someone—she could not imagine why she would allow her friend and ally to recede in such a way. "We're both Institutes, aren't we?"

Walter nodded—it was difficult to place the calm expression he wore. "Unfortunately, it has a great deal to do with Sir Alucard. Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman, and their son, were quite respectful towards him, but Mr. Sanfeld does not share their views. He resents an institute that claims both God's and vampiric protection." He smiled helplessly. "Our ways are strange to him, and there have been conflicts in the past. It's only because of Mr. Zimmerman that we have any contact at all anymore."

Celas hummed thoughtfully. "Conflicts," she murmured. "You mean…that woman agent of theirs from earlier?" She did her best not to scowl at the memory.

"Ahh, so you did meet Miss Varjak." This time, it was easy to see the amusement in his face. "Two years ago she came with a detail chasing an American vampire—Alucard interfered, and there was a brief struggle. I'd like to think it was an educational experience for us all."

Despite herself, Celas grinned at the thought of her Master teaching that snobbish American a lesson. "I wish I'd seen it."

"As do I." Walter turned away from his work. "By the way, we seem to be missing a bag. You and Miss Varjak unloaded the supplies, didn't you?"

"I…well, that's…." Celas ducked her head, but when she glanced up Walter was smiling at her, teasing. She stared back at him, at a loss.

"It's quite all right," Walter said easily. "You've been very patient."

Celas sighed in quiet relief. "I very sorry," she apologized all the same.

"Next time, don't be ashamed to ask for it."

She nodded. "Thank you, Walter." Smiling again, she pushed off the cabinets and straightened her uniform. "Well, I should get going. I'm on duty pretty soon."

"May God and the Queen's protection be with you."

"Amen." Celas grinned at her him one last time before starting briskly out of the basement. Tonight would be nothing special—just a night on the streets, cleaning up the few Freak vampires that remained. And she was almost looking forward to the distraction…until she remembered Alucard's warning.

"He doesn't want me out, but I can't explain myself to Lady Integra, either," she pondered aloud. "Well, I can't just hide out for the next few months. I'll just have to be…discreet." Certainly any interested vampire would think again once they realized she was a Hellsing officer. It might even make her job easier, by bringing her prey right to her. Though even with those thoughts she wasn't quite comforted as she joined with her unit in the courtyard.

Commander Wellerune gave out the assignments briskly—Celas frowned when he reported that she was to take her patrol in South Hedgewood—far from the city, and from most vampires. Usually she was kept in the middle of things, thanks to her abilities. She understood when she caught glances of the reserve soldiers Mithril 6 had sent; most were watching her, including the by now infamous Agent Varjak. Celas decided it wouldn't be so bad to sit this one out, if it meant avoiding the woman.

The group split apart, and Celas was about to join her comrades in the truck heading south when, unfortunately, Varjak took it upon herself to approach. The vampire bit back a breathless curse. "Can I help you?" she asked instead.

"You reek of blood," Varjak said pointedly. "I suppose that little snake you stole earlier wasn't enough…?"

"I can take care of my own diet, thank you," she replied tersely. "Now, would you excuse me? I have a job to do." She turned to leave, startled by her own boldness. But Varjak stopped her with a hand on her wrist.

"Don't you turn your back on me, Vampire," the woman growled. "Even as Hellsing's dog, it wouldn't take much to have you killed. That's my job, after all."

Celas tugged on her grip, and was surprised again when she didn't escape immediately. Varjak really was strong. "You'd better leave me alone, or you'll have my Master to deal with," she warned.

The brief look of surprise that crossed Varjak's face as she withdrew was far too satisfying. "You're…Alucard's?" she surmised warily. Her eyes narrowed. "I should have known."

Celas bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Victoria! Varjak!" one of the captains called. "Get to your units—we're leaving!"

"Yes, sir!" Celas glared at the woman one more time—and was returned with the same vehemence—before turning her back again and heading for the truck. She could feel pale eyes on her the entire way. A tiny grin curled her lips—she hoped Master had seen that.

Several hours later found Celas standing in a back alley at South Hedgewood, her weapon smoking as the last of the vampire's remains disintegrated. She watched calmly, somewhat detached. So, there had been a vampire in South Hedgewood after all…an older man, well dressed and homely seeming, until his fangs emerged. Such was usually the case. And she had almost expected…something. Anything, to confirm Alucard's earlier words, but her target had not so much as looked at her funny.

"Master couldn't have been teasing me…." Celas murmured, sliding her weapon back into its holster. There was no trace of her quarry left now, and she ventured out of the alleyway, into open streets once more. Fortunately it was late enough by now that no one was about, nor heard her shots due to her gun's suppressor—a must in these smaller towns. "Well, I'm not due back for a while yet. I might as well…." She snorted. It wasn't as if she could just walk into the local pub and order a few drinks, after all. But there wasn't much else for her to do besides return to the institute, and she thought perhaps it might be nice to stay out a while. It would keep her away from Varjak that much longer, at least. And so, with a resigned sigh, she found a late night diner and slipped inside.

The diner was all but empty—one waitress, two old drunkards, and a very young woman were the only solemn patrons. Celas picked a seat and ordered a coffee—even if she didn't really intend to drink it, she wanted to keep up appearances. She was served, and sighed quietly as she stirred the steaming liquid. "I don't even know what I'm doing here," she muttered, disheartened.

It was only a few minutes later when the bell above the diner door chimed. Celas glanced up instinctually at the sound, and was a bit surprised to see a teenage boy slinking inside. He was dressed in baggy jeans and a sweatshirt—she made a face at the thought of another punk. But his face—though sporting two eyebrow bars—appeared pleasant and friendly. He spotted her quickly, and with a smile moved to join her. "Do you mind?"

"Oh, um, no," Celas replied, a bit perplexed. She offered a polite smile. "Please."

The boy grinned and slid into the booth across from her. Despite his odd appearance, his hair was immaculately clean and combed; pale, and thin, like corn silk. "You're out awfully late," he remarked. "Even for a police officer."

Celas chuckled evasively. "Well, you know how it is."

"That's cool. Keeping our streets safe." He made some hand gesture at the waitress, who seemed to understand and placed an order with the cook. "I'm here a lot," he explained with a wink. "They know me."

"It's awful late for someone your age to be wandering around," Celas said lightly.

To this, the boy chuckled. "Maybe," he conceded, and when he tilted his head, the light reflected oddly in his too blue eyes. "Maybe."

Celas' breath caught in her throat, and she sat back abruptly. "You're—"

"Yeah." He snorted. "Duh. Young, aren't you?" The vampire chuckled to himself as she shifted in her seat.

"I…." Celas bit her lip, watching the boy now with added caution. He…wasn't one of the Freak vampires she'd been against lately. And though she could not sense in him the same timeless maturity as in Helena, she could tell there was more beneath his youthful appearance. Here was a real vampire, on the other end not of a gun but a table, his eyes fixed pointedly on her.

The youth extended his hand. "The name's Garret," he introduced, and dumbly she accepted. "Have you moved in recently? Gotta admit, I'm kinda spoiled being alone out here, but I don't like to fight."

Celas blinked. She could determine well enough what he meant: he thought she was moving into his feeding territory. "Oh no—no, of course not. I'm not staying. I'm…." She glanced helplessly down at her coffee.

But Garret only smiled, his gaze never leaving her. "It's all right," he assured. "I know why you're really here." He waved a hand at her uniform, and the insignia it bore. "We're a bit far out here, but I guess everyone knows about you folk. And I should thank you, for taking out old man Arrason. He was getting on my nerves."

"Ah…yeah." Celas' face twisted in confusion. Every other she had met outside Hellsing—humans, hunters, and vampires alike—had treated her with a certain air of condescension, or downright loathing. Hellsing had, after all, been slaughtering true vampires long before the appearance of the enhancing Freak chips. And yet there was no malevolence in Garret's attention on her now. In fact, he appeared all too eager.

There was only one explanation, and the thought of it colored Celas' cheeks fiercely. "Um," she stuttered ungracefully, "I'm sorry, but…that is…is there something you…."

Garret chuckled at her confusion. "Why don't you at least tell me your name?" he suggested.

"Celas," she replied without thinking. "And I'm supposed to be on duty, so I should probably—"

"Now hold on a second," Garret said quickly, his hand falling over hers. "There's no rush, is there? Stay a while."

Celas started to speak but fell silent abruptly as she transferred her gaze to their touching flesh. A tiny shiver ran up her arm, followed closely by a deepening blush. She ducked away, embarrassed for having reacted in such a way toward a complete stranger. Whatever condition she may be in, that was no excuse. Despite this, she could not bring herself to utter a word.

He smirked. But before he could think of a proper word the waitress arrived with his order—a hamburger, raw, and a beer. As soon as the waitress had left Garret casually removed the bun, onions, and pickles from his meal, treating himself to a taste of pink meat. He shrugged at Celas' stare. "It's no substitute," he explained. "But it's not so bad. I like to be seen about and eating, after all. It's kinda fun, too—chewing."

Celas pursed her lips thin, doing her best to ignore the juice seeping over his lips from the meat. It was making her stomach twist, though having already fed twice that night. Alucard's words could not be proven so soon…. "Garret," she started carefully. "How…did you know I was here?"

"Hmm?" Garret returned her gaze calmly. "Like I said, I come here all the time. We're just lucky, I guess." He winked.

Celas' shoulders crept higher. "Yes, but…you knew what I am right away, didn't you? How…."

Garret at first didn't seem to understand, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But when he saw that Celas was honestly puzzled, he grinned in embarrassment. "You mean…you didn't know?"

"Know what?"

"That you're…." Garret flushed, and coughed sharply. "Well, not to be crude, but you're kid of giving off signals. Y'know?"

Celas' face brightened in turn, and she ducked lower in her chair. "So everyone really can tell," she groaned. "How humiliating."

Garret laughed. "Oh, it's not all that bad. Your first time?" She nodded miserably. "It's kind of like…a smell we get," he explained. "Like a sexy perfume, just kinda saying, 'hey.' Y'know? Only other vampires can tell."

She nodded, oddly comforted by the natural tone of his voice. Her mind was filled suddenly with questions; though Alucard had been trying to help her earlier, she wasn't always comfortable in asking him directly. Garret's casual air, and the fact that he seemed to know what he was talking about, gave her a little more confidence. "So, you've been around vampires like me before."

"It's not that bad," Garret assured again. "But yeah, I've been around long enough." He squinted at her. "You…are pretty young, aren't you?"

"Only a few months," she admitted.

"Didn't your master teach you this kind of stuff?"

"Well…." Celas shook her head slightly. "Not really. He's…I wouldn't know what to ask." Alucard was so much more powerful than her—she wouldn't even know where to start, wouldn't want to waste his time having to take care of her. "He's a wonderful master, of course, but I…."

He nodded. "I see. Must be a higher up—some of the old folks can be like that." He dug a few pounds out of his jeans pocket to pay for the meal. "How about I take you around?"

"What?" Celas stared at him blankly. "What do you—"

"C'mon, it'll be fun." Garret stood up from the booth, moving around to drag her along. "You'll be back on the streets before ya know it, with a few more tricks."

Celas frowned, even as she allowed him to pull her outside. "Are you sure you're not just trying to get on my good side?" she asked darkly.

"Of course—wouldn't want a Hellsing officer after me." He winked.

"That's not what I meant, but…." Celas blushed again as she followed him down the street, outside of the window glow of the diner. As soon as it was out of sight they were plunged into lightless streets once more. She glanced about uneasily. "Where are you taking me?"

"Right here." Garret ducked into a narrow side alley, grinning conspiratorially. "Just keep following me; it'll be fine." And with that he turned, leaping effortlessly onto the five-meter high alley wall.

Celas sputtered ungracefully. "Um, excuse me, but I—"

"You can make it, he promised, holding out a hand. "Just try it—you'll see what I mean."

She returned his gaze with disbelief, but he looked so sure…. "All right, then." Steeling herself she crouched, concentrating on the youth's hand as she launched herself upward. For a moment she almost felt weightless, and then her feet touched solid stone once more. "Ah—" She started to tip forward, but Garret's hand on her shoulder kept her steady. She blinked. "I made it. Just like that."

Garret laughed, giving her hand a squeeze. "Just like that. Vampires can do anything—you just need to know where to start." He snatched her hand. "Come on."

Without waiting for a response Garret tugged her closer and slung an arm around her waist. He was stronger than he looked—once powerful jump took them sailing onto the roof of a nearby building that was at least three stories high. Celas gasped, and hardly had time to catch her breath before they were in the air again, heading south through the town.

"I love to jump—can't help it," he laughed above the wind. "It's the closest a vampire of my level will ever get to flying.'

"Flying?" Celas echoed. She licked her lips. "Yeah…." Not like Alucard. Someone like him…they didn't have a chance of ever reaching his level. When they paused at the next building she urged his arm off her. "Do you mind? I'd like to try for myself."

"Sure." Blatantly pleased, Garret released her, transferring his hand to hers. They stepped to the edge of the roof together, and as a pair leapt into the air once more. Celas kept her eyes wide, delighted, as they sailed easily to the next building. Though she could have wished for an easier uniform, the night wind felt good against her face, her body light and exhilarated. They had crossed nearly half the town in this soundless, graceful manner before Celas was satisfied, and even then she was not a bit fatigued.

"Your master must really be something," Garret remarked as they stopped at last. "You're a natural."

"Yeah, I guess." Celas dangled her feet of the roof edge. They had taken rest on the top of a four-story office building near the highway, watching idly as the car lights streamed past. "But then, I guess it's just because I'm…."

"Hmm, maybe. Guess that means you'd better take advantage of it."

Celas scoffed weakly, and shied away beneath his gleaming eyes. It had been a long time, she thought with a blush, since someone had hit on her like this. Well, with any class, anyway. She wasn't sure if she should have been flattered by the attention, or disappointed by its cause. And it wasn't helping that he looked several years beneath her age.

"Please stop that," she said at last, elbowing him in the side. I know why you're being so nice to me."

"Oh come on—you're enjoying it," he retorted, nudging her back. "Is it really so bad?"

"Well…it's not that flattering, knowing you can't help it."

Garret chuckled, leaning over suddenly to kiss her playfully on the cheek. "Hey!" she sputtered, shoving him. "What are you—"

Celas jumped as her radio sparked suddenly to life, and she scrambled to unclip it from her belt. "Yes, Victoria here," she hastily reported.

"Victoria," her commander snapped. "Were have you been? You were supposed to report in half an hour ago."

"I'm sorry, sir. I…had a little trouble, but it's been taken care of." Celas shifted nervously away from Garret, who was starting to make childish faces at her.

"All right. Next time, don't forget to report in, whatever your situation. Just get back here."

"Yes, sir. I'm on my way."

The radio went silent, and she sighed as she replaced it at her hip. "Well, I guess that's it," she told him, all too relieved. "Thanks, though—it was fun."

Garret smiled at her genuinely. "Anytime, kid."

"Kid?" Celas rolled her eyes and climbed to her feet. Even if he might have been decades older than her, he still looked no older than eighteen. She stretched, glancing about. "Now…how am I gonna get back?"

"You can run," he suggested. "London's only about twenty kilometers from here."

"Run? But that's—"

"You want to get stronger, don't you? It should be an easy workout for you."

Celas considered, watching the cars run down the highway, wondering if she could really do s he indicated. It all seemed so unreal, even after everything she had witnessed so far. "We'll see. But…." She glanced down at Garret. Despite all her teasing, she really had enjoyed herself that evening. Being away from the institute, from the city, her job, and even Alucard, was calming, as if she could breathe more easily.

"Garret," she said quietly, watching him. "I'm…a Hellsing officer, you know? I really should be fighting you right now. Doesn't that bother you?" She wasn't sure why she was asking—perhaps only to test if she really had made a friend here. One of…what was supposed to be her own kind.

Garret's eyes thinned, though his smile did not falter. Slowly, he climbed to his feet so that he could properly face her. "You have your reasons," he said evenly. "And you said yourself a while ago you've only killed the Freak vampires, so I can't complain."

"Yes, but…." She ducked her head. "Once we've destroyed all the Freak chips, we'll be back to killing real vampires. Will you…." She clenched her fists. "Will everyone hate me then?"

Garret stepped closer, and before she could think to pull away his hands were warming her already flushed cheeks, his lips soft on hers. It sent a shiver down her spine unlike anything she had felt in a long time, and she admonished her foolish body for reacting with such eagerness. But when he recoiled, his face reflected gentle seriousness. "What you should really be worrying bout," he told her grimly, "is what will happen to you once there aren't any more vampires to kill."

Celas' lips parted to speak, which he took advantage of with another kiss. "Take care of yourself," he advised with a wink.

"Oh, you." Celas pushed him back half-heartedly. But his words had already sunk in, and she wasn't quite in a mood for humor anymore. "I'm leaving now. Just be glad I haven't already taken you out."

Garret backed off, his cheerful grin in place once more. "All right, I got it. I'm gone. Thanks for not kicking my ass. Look me up, if you're ever around."

"Sure." Celas managed a polite smile as a farewell, stepping again to the edge. "I guess I might see you again."

"We are immortal, after all."

"Yeah…." Celas shook herself. "Well, goodbye." Before she could think about it too much she leapt off the edge, suffering a moment of panic as the pavement rose up to meet her. But she landed without difficulty, as if having dropped no more than a meter. She marveled at that only a moment before starting down the highway. "I guess…I might as well try it," she decided. "I've eaten plenty tonight, and I am supposedly stronger, so…."

Celas took a deep breath, starting away from the highway—she didn't want anyone to see her running by herself. When she was far enough to be out of sight she readied herself and took off running. At first she couldn't tell that anything had changed; it wasn't often that she could just run, flat out without restriction, and she warmed up to the exercise gradually. After a few minutes, however, she became aware of how quickly the scenery was passing by. Her limbs were moving faster than they ought to have been, and she hadn't even broken a sweat. It felt good.

Celas grit her teeth, grinning, as she pushed herself faster. It was exhilarating; the wind, the smell of the country, the adrenaline…she hadn't been able to enjoy a workout like this in a long time. Combined with all her activity from earlier and the remaining warmth on her lips, she felt incredible. Full and excited and content—as if for the first time really realizing what it meant to be immortal.

By the time Celas at last arrived back at Hellsing, she was just starting to become tired. Commander Wellerune welcomed her back with a bit of a scowl---she had arrived back hours later than expected. She apologized appropriately, not mentioning how she had come, and ducked quickly inside before further reprimand could follow. She was starving again. But she had already taken more than her share for that evening, and she was afraid that Walter might question should she ask again. In any case, it was almost dawn, and she hoped a good rest would calm her appetite.

Celas opened the door to her room and all but bounded inside. She was expecting to see Alucard there; he had promised to be watching over her, after all, so he must have witnessed her entire evening. Certainly he would have a lot to say about her first encounter as an "available" vampire.

But Alucard wasn't waiting for her, nor did he appear when she called softly. She flopped onto the bed to wait a while. "Master…?"

Still nothing, and with a sigh Celas changed her clothes. "Well, goodnight, then," she murmured, stretching out on the bed. Whether he hadn't seen her after all or was simply holding his tongue would be a question for the next night.

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