Author's
Notes: Hi! I see you've stumbled onto my little fic.
I'd like to start by saying that I'm new to the series. I haven't
even finished it and I'm so inspired! So I began this despite my
better judgment. Eh. I... don't really have a title.
Just a crappy working one, and I don't know where I'm going with this
story. Guess we'll see on down the line, right? One thing I
do know is that it's an Alucard/Celas fic. Love the couple!
Please give it a shot and tell me what you think. And if I'm
getting the characterization wrong, tell me in a review and I'll work
to correct it in later chapters. Bye!
As she awoke to blackness, the silk coverlets of her coffin reassured her she was safely snug in her residence at Hellsing Manor. The pleasantly smooth fabric shifted as she stirred, pulling over her abdomen and tickling the flesh beneath her breast. Distractedly, she yawned, moving her hand to find the sheet.
That's odd, she thought, fumbling in the dark for the coffin's release. Why am I so ticklish this morning?
The lid rose, revealing a waning moon framed by the black curtains of her window. Though only a sliver, its light strongly silhouetted the contours of her room, detailing in stark clarity the messy state of her quarters. When she glanced down, it also illuminated something a little unsettling.
"Wha-?" Her eyes registered her shock, but the sweatdrop that hung by her head suggested she wasn't as worried by her discovery as one might be. "When did I take off my clothes...?"
A look over the edge of her bed to the floor uncovered her missing apparel. The angle of moonlight didn't allow for a decent view of the articles, although she could already tell by the patches of darkened fabric that they must be speckled with blood from a recent battle. Raising her eyes to the table in the center of her chamber, Celas saw Walter had already made his morning rounds and left her a bucket of medical blood in ice. She frowned in distaste.
Extending her sense of perception, Celas checked for a nearing presence. She didn't want to be caught in the buff, after all. Then she emerged from her bed slowly, stiffly, and popped her joints one by one. Her muscles were unusually sore this morning, she noted. She surmised the battle the night previous must have been tough. Too bad she didn't have memory of it. Sighing her disregard, she walked to her closet and rifled through the line of military sanctioned uniforms.
As she dressed, Celas wondered what the new night had in store for her. Nothing strenuous, she hoped, but hopes had never counted for much in her experience. Still, wishful thinking eased tension from time to time, and she had a lot to ease tonight.
Finishing the last lace of her boot, Celas rose with a stretch, cracking the vertebrae in her lower back one final time. She strode toward the door, carefully avoiding the table on her right. The pull of chilled blood was strong, however, and she halted at the door, fangs elongated and nose twitching with the metallic scent. Celas turned, lip curled to bare one protruding fang as she eyed the medical blood. Its presence tugged at her desires, especially tonight when she was tired and weak from fighting.
"Go," she told herself, forcing her legs to propel her out the door and into the security of the hall. She shut the door behind her with an ominous clang that echoed accusingly down the corridor. Perhaps it was just her own guilt, but she could feel her master's stern gaze, alerted by the sound. Quickly, Celas fled to down the hallway, putting as much distance as she could between herself and her condemning room.
It was only when she reached the staircase that led to the upper floor of Hellsing that she finally slowed, softly panting for air – redundant, but an old habit she couldn't shake. Walter stood at the top of the stairs, mop in hand as he scrubbed the second floor. He smiled thinly when he saw her.
"Ah, Miss Victoria. Glad to see you are up and running." Walter grinned at his own joke, pausing in his work. "I was worried that you would sleep the night through; your injuries were rather extensive."
Celas stared at him, puzzled. Besides her groaning joints and weary muscles, she felt fine.
Walter must have seen the confusion on her face, for he continued, "So you have no memory of it, I see. That is not altogether unusual. Fledgling vampires often enter a state of unconsciousness – a trance, say – when they have many wounds that require much of their energy to heal." He resumed washing the floor. The glint of refracted light from his monocle concealed his eyes from her, veiling his expression. "Nosferatu such as Alucard have greater reserves of energy to feed upon to aid in healing, thus it is unnecessary to shut down all bodily functions. Sleep is all that is required to restore a true vampire to his full power."
"I see," replied Celas for lack of a better response. Walter's endless wellspring of information, though useful, caught her off guard. Speaking with Walter often brought back memories of her schooling, and reliving any portion of her past now that she was a vampire was unsettling yet comforting in its familiarity. Bittersweet.
"Not to worry, Miss Victoria," Walter reassured with a smile. "I'm sure you will gain in strength before long."
Celas nodded her gratitude for the gesture. "I hope so, too." And she did. She liked to remember her 'life', even if it was bleak and full of hurt. Missing time left her with a feeling of being incomplete. She would have to overcome that feeling eventually. She had a great deal of time ahead of her now, after all.
Waving to Walter, Celas ascended the staircase and proceeded to her boss's quarters at a slower pace. Since she woke later than normal, she was already going to be late for her nightly assignment. Miss Hellsing would surely vocalize her displeasure, but a few extra minutes would do nothing to worsen or lighten her tone.
Integral Hellsing – her master's master. A powerful, frightening woman driven with a vengeance spurred from a horrible past. Even so, she was too severe, in Celas's opinion. If Miss Hellsing had never taken her in those years ago, Celas would respect her only for her fierce determination and raw might – things she had often wanted for herself. Now, however, Celas was obligated to Miss Hellsing. Integral deserved her loyalty regardless of whether or not she agreed with the harsh woman's actions. Integral deserved her respect for this reason, as well. More importantly, though, Integral deserved her respect because her master respected her.
But that didn't necessarily mean Celas liked her very much.
The large, wooden doors to Miss Hellsing's chamber stood closed. The gold handle twinkled coldly at her, hinting at what she would encounter within. Celas grasped it hesitantly, drew a deep breath, and turned the handle.
The high-backed chair in front of the ancient, oak desk faced the window like always, backlit by the moon. A tall figure stood off to one side, propped against the wall by one cinched curtain. Celas couldn't make it out, but she suspected it to be the figure of her master. The sole indication of Integral's existence within the chamber was the faint curl of smoke drifting from the chair.
Integral Hellsing addressed her subordinate without turning. "You're late, Celas. Explain yourself."
The days after Integral's change had been rough on everyone in the agency. She was quicker to anger, reproachful, and cold to her subjects, including Alucard. Maybe it was because she was bitter at herself for what she had become – one of the monsters she fought so hard to eradicate. Celas understood only that her boss now held no forgiveness for those who didn't make their duty their life.
Having no excuse she could substantiate, Celas was about to apologize when Alucard withdrew from the shadows.
"Miss Celas has been incapacitated, Miss Hellsing. The severity of her injuries necessitated a long rest to fully heal." Alucard's sharp eyes studied Celas's form, sans glasses. He didn't seem to notice when she squirmed beneath his gaze. "Are you fully recovered, Celas?"
"H-Hai, Master," Celas stuttered, surprised that her master would come to her defense. Her focus flit from Alucard to Integral and back again. "I feel fine, so I suppose so."
"Suppose, Celas?" Integral swiveled around to frown crisply down her nose at her underling. The red of her irises lent a menacing appearance to an already unsympathetic visage.
Once again, Alucard surprised Celas by jumping to her defense. "Likely, she doesn't remember. It's a side effect of her recovery at this stage of her metamorphosis."
Integral glared coolly and said nothing. Instead, she resumed her watch of the fields outside the window, puffing her cigar. The smoke hung about her head in a thin mist. Celas thought it befitting; since her transformation, Integral's head was always caught in a perpetual fog, her true personality lost in a haze of resentment.
"Remove yourself, Alucard," Integral commanded. "And take your pet with you."
Alucard leveled a look at his master solemnly, then, bowing courteously, approached the bristling Celas. "Come."
Swallowing the contemptuous retort at the edge of her lips, Celas muttered a tense, "Hai, Master," and followed his lead into the corridor. Her fists dangled clenched at her sides, and her gaze trained ahead at the heels of her master's black boots.
The nerve of that woman! Treating me as if I'm some kind of... some kind of...
"Animal?" Alucard supplied smartly. He stopped some distance from Integral's office, far enough away that even the ultra sensitive ears of a vampire couldn't overhear. When he turned to her, a smirk adorned his face.
Celas hated when her master listened to her thoughts. It was an invasion of her privacy! And, of course, Alucard knew that. The irritation she felt showed plainly in the tweak of her mouth. Celas wondered if the No Life King got his kicks from causing those around him grief.
"Ne... She didn't have to be so callous!" she remarked, gaze livid with repressed anger. Oh, how she wished she had her Halconnen...
Alucard regarded her impassively. "She's under much stress, recently. Vampire attacks have escalated in the passing weeks, have they not? As Commander, do you believe she's not under pressure to put an end to this ceaseless battling?"
Celas quit seething as she digested his logic. In all this time working for Hellsing, she hadn't considered that Integral must take orders from a higher chain of command. Celas knew she did, of course, on a subconscious level, but the matter of her boss's suffering – the pain that wasn't internal – had never crossed her mind.
Somewhat ashamed, if only a little, Celas said, "Still, she had no right to belittle me like that."
Alucard remained silent, unbothered by her aggravation. His stare was blank, calculating.
Intense.
Celas felt a rush of heat in her cheeks and cursed herself for a hormonal teenager. But without the orange glasses, her master's eyes... They were the deepest crimson – beautiful, sinister,
(sexy)
captivating pools of blood set into sockets that suggested a man of foreign descent. Framed by ebon strands of thick hair, the mesmerizing quality of those red irises magnified tenfold. Her master was...
Striking.
Alucard bent forward minutely, though his prodigious height brought him closer by mere inches; Celas would still have to strain to reach his neck. His gaze traveled over her flushing face, stoic and analytical, and down past her chin to her high collar. Celas idly wondered if he was searching for something.
A white-gloved hand grasped the belt at her waist. She gasped as his fingers nimbly worked the clasp, unfastening the leather support and keeping hold of it when it fell free. His other hand pulled at the hem of her blue uniform shirt as he knelt before her.
"Master, what-?"
He pushed the shirt up past her ribs to just below her breasts, exposing the underneath of her white bra. Celas jerked, stunned and a tad offended by her master's bold actions, and grabbed his arm on reflex.
"Female Officer," Alucard spoke soothingly, a trace of teasing in his deep tones, "I'm merely inspecting your wounds." Then he smiled, a mischievous turn of the lips. "Unless there is something else you would have me do..."
Celas shook her head vigorously, eyes wide with the insinuation. Her grip on her master's forearm flagged, arms falling limply to her sides. She watched him compliantly, struggling to regain control of her breathing as Alucard resumed his examination of her abdomen, peering closely and faintly touching the smooth skin of her stomach.
After several tense moments passed, Alucard rose, letting gravity manipulate her shirt to its rightful place. He handed her the belt. "No residual scarring. A clean heal in under a day. You are very fortunate, Female Officer."
Having no knowledge of the true nature of her injuries, Celas could only manage an unsteady, "Arigato."
"Go to bed. Rest," said Alucard, walking away. "You have no assignment tonight." His form flickered, disappearing into the stone wall.
"Matte!" she called out, but he was already gone. She wouldn't find him again tonight unless he wanted to be found. With questions burning in her mind, Celas continued to the stairs. The beginnings of a headache were taking root in her temples, and she figured a rest in the dark confines of her room might be what she needed. With the black belt held loosely in her right hand dragging the floor, Celas trudged down the corridor alone.