Title: For What We Have Left Undone
Author: Essie Aster
Category: Hellsing
Genre: Angsty one-shot
Rating: PG-13 (mostly cause I don't think children should be reading Hellsing stories)
Summary: "We have sinned against you in thought, word and deed - by what we have done, and by what we have left undone..."
A/N: Just reading through my old stuff and edited it.
For What We Have Left Undone
As a child she had always displayed a remarkable understanding and devotion to the teachings of the Church. As a young woman she studied furiously to learn all she could of the theology and doctrine which eventually lead her to Rome and the Vatican, and in the end to Iscariot. But those days were gone, and to the tormented warrior they felt a lifetime away.
Wolfe Heinkel sat alone on a small swinging bench suspended from the roof above the porch of her mother's house. She had been unable to think of another place to go. For so long her home had been in Rome. Everything she had belonged to the church; her clothes, her food, her life. Now she had nothing but the clothes on her back and the air she felt she was stealing from the heavens. She no longer wore the priest's collar or even the plain silver cross around her neck. She felt unworthy to display such a symbol. Instead she held the cross gently between her folded hands and fingered the smooth, cool metal. Her eyes instinctively closed as her heart desperately reached out to call upon her Lord. Letting go a long sigh she pulled back and opened her eyes, tenderly placing the cross deep into the pocket of her coat.
The night air was cool and crisp, the stars partially visible above the clouds and city lights. The roar of traffic was dying down as commuters left the city to return to freshly cooked meals in suburban homes. In a nearby park a loud game of baseball was being played by two competing schools; one the school Wolfe had attended years before, the other a big-name private school from the other side of the wall. Judging by the cheers the home team had taken the lead. In the house next-door a husband and wife were arguing about a late dinner while their three elementary school children played a quiet game of cat-and-mouse on the front lawn. It was business as usual in the bustling metropolis, for all save the young woman swinging absent-mindedly from the porch swing.
Her eyes were red and sunken from hours of crying and a multiple weeks' worth of sleepless nights. Her already thin face was drawn from stress and nutritional neglect, and her soft hair hung heavy with a thin film of oil and grease which had accumulated over the past few days. Nothing about her appearance suggested the person she had been less than a month ago.
Inside the house Wolfe's mother gazed sadly at her grown child. The younger woman had not spoken to anyone about what brought her back to her mother's home. That morning her mother had gone to Sunday mass alone. Wolfe would not tell her why. She only looked down at the aging matron sadly and whispered, 'I'll tell you when I'm ready.'
The truth was, in Wolfe's eyes as well as those of her judges in Rome, the woman who had so dedicated her life to God was now unworthy to set foot on holy ground. She had been condemned, as it were, to live out the best life she could with no heaven to reward her, only an audience with the dark master of Hell.
'Wolfe Heinkel, as a result of your crimes against the Church of God, and in His stead, you are forthwith excommunicated from the fellowship of the body of Christ and banished from his sight.'
She had been slow. She had been weak. Her negligence had cost the lives of twelve Brothers and that of her best friend. All things considered, nothing Wolfe could have done would have altered the course of events. Yumie was out of her control, and the ambush had already been laid. The Franciscans were dead before even Yumie had arrived. Yumie was defeated before Wolfe had drawn her gun. But the Vatican blamed her, and she agreed.
The young Japanese woman looked up at Heinkel with dark, pain-filled eyes. Her body was already broken. Only God could save her now if such was His will. Yumie did not believe it was so. There was one way to deliver God's vengeance on the last remaining murdering heathen - she had to die.
The man was frightened. One nun had killed nearly forty men single-handedly and with nothing more than an unwieldy sword. While the battle had taken its toll on her, the man did not trust her within arm's reach. He kept his gun trained inches away from her head as Wolfe Heinkel pulled her gun out and clicked off the safety.
'Wolfe, dinner's ready.'
Wordlessly, Wolfe followed her mother into the old house and sat at the small wooden table. Their dinner was small, but sufficient and healthy. Throughout the meal the elder tried in vain to encourage her daughter to open up, but Wolfe would only whisper quietly that she was not ready.
With a heavy sigh her mother stood to take the dishes to the sink, but, sensing her mother's concern and stress, Wolfe rose and took the dishes from her with a small smile.
'I'll take care of them, mama.'
As Wolfe set about washing the dishes and cookware in the porcelain sink a hollow knock sounded on the front door. Her mother vanished through the small living room to answer it.
'Who is it, mama?' Wolfe paused mid-task. After a moment with no response Wolfe removed her hands from the soapy water and turned.
'Good evening, Heinkel.'
Wolfe hid a flash of surprise and nodded curtly. 'Father Anderson.'
The tall Scotsman stooped to pass under the low arched frame leading from the living room to the kitchen. 'This is a nice house. Nice area,' he commented, surveying the small abode with his hands clasped behind his back.
Heinkel turned back to her dishes and continued scrubbing the grease from one of the fry pans. 'How can I help you, Father,' she asked with a forced air of detachment.
Anderson raised his eyebrow. 'For starters you can come back to Rome and defend yourself,' he answered, cutting to the chase.
Heinkel stopped what she was doing, taken by surprise at his blunt demand. Gritting her teeth she resumed her scrubbing. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'
'Send him to Hell, Heinkel!' Yumie growled through bloodied lips.
Heinkel paused and stared at her friend, holding her gun steady on the terrorist.
In the flash of an eye Anderson had crossed the distance between himself and Heinkel and had her back pinned against the sink. He stooped eye-level with her and took a firm grip on her arm. 'You and I both know you're innocent. Enrico does too. You didn't give them your side of the story. Are you just going to accept their condemnation?'
'Why should I fight what I deserve?'
Anderson's tone turned angry. 'Because of one death you're letting them take away the gift your Saviour died to deliver?'
Heinkel closed her eyes and turned away from the priest. When she opened them she saw her mother standing in the doorway with tears in her eyes. In shame and anger Heinkel pulled away from Anderson and bolted out of the house. Using all of her strength, she ran at full speed until she reached the bridge that joined the city near the ruins of the dividing wall. Catching herself on the rail of the bridge she looked down into the dark city streets below her as she caught her breath.
'Heinkel, shoot the bastard!'
'Yumiko,' Heinkel whispered. She bowed her head, resting her forehead against the cold rail as her tears fell onto the bloodstained streets below.
'If you're even thinking about jumping, know that I will be the one to hear your confession as soon as you're reinstated, and you will have a difficult penance for that sin.'
Wolfe whispered her words to the cement under her feet, unmoving. 'I'm damned already, Father Maxwell.'
'You were falsely condemned, Wolfe, and if you come back to Rome there is a tribunal ready to hear your case.'
Heinkel bit down on her tear-soaked hands and kept her eyes squeezed shut. 'How can God forgive me if I can't forgive myself?' She cried, collapsing onto the ground and leaning back against the railing.
'Let me tell you a little secret they don't teach you in seminary,' Enrico Maxwell confided, squatting down to Heinkel's level. 'God doesn't give a damn about what the vipers in Rome have to say. For them it's political, and they're willing to hurt anyone who gets in their way.'
Heinkel pushed her tears from her cheek with the heel of her palm and looked forward, struggling to compose herself as the priest continued.
'You killed one person that day, Wolfe - a murdering heathen. Grieve for your friend, we all do, but know that she is with the Father and receiving her reward.'
Heinkel took a deep breath and glanced up at the man who had been her superior for the past years. His eyes were the calmest she had ever seen them and bore traces of his own unshed tears. Behind him came a heavy set of footsteps and the shadow of the Vatican's Paladin. In the presence of these men, and with God watching, Wolfe made her choice.
'Fifty-four dead in Prague. Thirteen members of the Holy Catholic Church. You're the only survivor, and you are unharmed.'
'Caught in the crossfire? or betrayed?'
'How do you account for your survival?'
'Answer the questions.'
'She ran ahead of me. I don't know how she got through the barrier, but by the time I was able to get through they were already dead. The battle was over.'
Heinkel clenched her fists and ground them into the wood of the podium. Before her stood the same men who had condemned her. To her left was her superior, and her friend.
'I can attest to Yumie's tactics. They were somewhat... unpredictable,' Father Maxwell interjected.
'Yet the Brother's were killed with bullets, as the original evidence shows. The same bullets used by the gun Wolfe Heinkel carried.'
The bishop in charge of the tribunal cleared his throat for order as mutterings arose from the jury of clergy observing from the side.
'Father Carter,' Maxwell interrupted again, addressing the slit-eyed priest who had initially charged Heinkel with the murder of the Franciscans. 'Forensics evidence hidden in the casefiles of the last trial shows that only one shot was fired from the gun you referred to. Only one.'
'Goodbye, Yumie,' Heinkel whispered, too low for the young nun to hear her.
Two shots rang out as one in the still air of the blood soaked arena. For a moment that stretched to eternity the world was silent, holding its breath as it waited for the outcome to be made clear. In the liquid silence the small feminine body collapsed as the burly male form swooned and dropped to its knees, both bearing the mark of a bullet passed in and out of their skulls.
Heinkel looked at the cross laid upside-down on her palm. Nothing would ever be the same without her. Wolfe had seen the world through the eyes of one who saw as two. She had known what it was to feel love unconditionally. Nothing could erase the memory of the woman she had worked with and gotten so annoyed by but loved so dearly. Nothing could change the past, but the future would move on, slighted by the loss of Yumiko Takagi.
With a quiet breath that was in essence a prayer, Wolfe Heinkel let go of the past and released the cross to hang freely around her neck. Standing erect she turned from the small headstone and strode forward into whatever future God had planned for her, which, for the time being, lead her back to the Vatican and to the waiting arms of Iscariot.
Owari