If memory serves, a movie is still allowed to be PG-13 if it has one use of the "f-word" in it. Therefore, I feel fairly safe keeping this story at the same rating.

As always, spoilers for the manga and a general disclaimer that I don't own Hellsing.

"I'll take two," Gray said as he threw his cards face up into the discard pile.

"Two for the loser," Michaels replied as he slid two fresh cards to Gray.

"I'm the bloody loser here," Pip grumbled. He put his entire hand down on the table.

"I fold."

"Not doing to well, eh Cap?"

"Side effect of dying, boys," Pip said as he leaned back in his chair and tipped his cowboy hat over his eyes. "Your luck goes straight to shit."

"Oh well, you know what they say," Gray said. "Unlucky in cards, lucky in-OW! Michaels!" He glared at his friend who was shaking his head furiously.

"Care to finish that, Gray?" Pip said coldly.

Realization struck Gray just as he turned towards Pip. The words caught in his mouth. "Uh… Unlucky in cards… lucky in roulette?"

Pip tilted his head to the side slightly. "Well, I'm afraid it's not true, I'm terrible at roulette." He leaned forward and grabbed his glass and downed what remained of his whiskey. "We need more drinks," he said. "My damn system negates most of the alcohol."

"So, what is it like?"

Bloody new recruits Seras thought miserably. Always full of stupid questions

She wondered idly when it was exactly that she had gotten so cynical. It must have been the influence of… someone.

"Are you awake ma'am?"

Seras' eyes fluttered and she turned to the soldier who was pestering her. "I'm sorry, what it is it like being a vampire?"

The soldier, who's name was Benson if her tag was any indication, shook her head. "No, no, no. I mean, well, you know." She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Seras sucked at a blood pack absentmindedly. "No. No I don't know."

Benson sighed. "You know. To have a man inside you!"

"I'm a virgin, Benson. That's why I'm a vampire." She hoped being surly and sarcastic would give the recruit the hint that she really didn't want to talk about this subject.

Unfortunately, Benson seemed to completely miss the point and plowed straight on. "I mean, you know, the Captain! Having his soul inside you! To be able to share every moment with someone. It sounds like the most intimate bond ever!"

Seras laughed mirthlessly. "Don't believe everything you hear. Who put you up to this? Was it Gray?"

"…Gray? The mercenary? No."

Seras rested her chin on her hand. "No, he's dumb but not suicidal. Who was it then?"

Benson blinked nervously. "Nobody asked me to do anything, ma'am. Someone on the night watch told me about the… thing. I was just curious."

Seras raised her eyebrows. "You're honestly just curious?"

Benson nodded meekly.

Seras sighed. "Then I'll tell you."

"And so, I died for her. Ya know? You were there! I died for her. I died for her!"

It turned out that Pip's new body could get drunk. It just took an ungodly amount of alcohol.

Pip reached for another bottle of bourbon and started to drink it straight. He slammed it down on the table, shaking it slightly. "Ya know," he continued. "I really didn't mind dying. I mean, I expected to die young, that's… what happens in this business. But I figured, at least I get to die doing something good, right? I mean, dying so that someone else better than you can live, 'sa good thing, right?"

He either didn't notice or didn't care that half of his audience was sleeping. Gray's eyes were drooping as he wavered between consciousness and sleep's embrace. He nodded sleepily. "It was a good death, Cap. We were proud of you."

Pip nodded. "Yeah. Good death. And then, I woke up and it was like I hadn't died. And not only had I not died, I was with her. And I was always gonna be with her. And then…" he trailed off into French as he rested his head face down on his arm.

"What's that boss?" Gray said as he finally gave up fighting sleep. "You were talking in French again…" his eyes closed and he drifted into slumber.

Pip opened his good eye and straightened up. "I said that it was the best damn thing that ever happened in my short, miserable life. And I fucked it up beyond repair."

The problem was that the drunken effect lasted a good ten seconds before he sobered up. He sighed and stared at the remaining bourbon. "Well, a little more won't hurt." He grabbed the bottle and downed the remnants. He stood up, bottle in hand, and looked at his men. "I suppose I'd better get you two to bed, shouldn't I?

The absurdly tall woman felt someone pull on her sleeve. She looked down to see one of the relatively younger soldiers staring up at her. He nodded towards the slightly less tall, silent figure creeping out in front of them, scanning the horizon.

"Is it true what they say? That he used to be one of us?" the soldier asked.

The tall woman nodded. "He was. He was the best of us, then. But the best of us then wasn't good enough for the best of them then. He lost. He died. But the Doctor brought him back, better than before. But at a cost."

"If he can't transform," another soldier said, "What good is he to us?"

The tall woman squinted angrily at him with her only remaining eye. "I won't have you talk about our superior officers in such a way, Gustav. And besides," she grinned. "He might hear you."

Gustav grinned, his teeth reflecting in the light of the full moon. "And if he does, Ilse? What can he do to me?"

Ilse turned her head to the side and was silent for a while. "You do not want to know. Believe me. You very much do not want to know. And it's 'Commander Max' to you." She turned back to staring out at their goal. "It is also worth mentioning that he is right behind you as well."

Gustav's eyes widened in absolute terror. He turned around and found himself in the full, intense, singular, concentrated stare of the creature known only as the Captain.

Pip slumped down the hallways of the Hellsing manor. He had put Gray and Jenkins into bed. They would be good and sober by the time the day shift rolled around.

He, on the other hand, wasn't sleepy at all. Damn part of being… whatever he was. Now he had a couple of hours to kill before he'd finally need sleep. Maybe he'd go off somewhere and be abjectly miserable.

Pip glanced to the door next to him. It led to one of the small dining rooms the troops used while on duty and waiting for a call.

"As good a place as any," he muttered. He slumped down next to the door and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

"…So that's what it was like?"

Seras nodded, staring into the blood pack. "Yeah. That's what it was like." She looked up and smiled. "But I've ruined it by being an over-controlling bitch who wouldn't let him have a little autonomy. No use on dwelling on the past."

Benson reached out a hand and gently rubbed Seras' shoulder. "No, don't say that. It wasn't completely your fault."

Seras covered her face with a hand. "No. No it was. All my fault." She sniffed and looked up, blinking back the tears in her eyes. "It's something I'll have to learn to live with for… the rest of eternity." She glanced down at her wrist. "Anyway," she said, standing up. "I should probably check in with the troops. Make sure they're ready to go at a moment's notice and all."

She walked towards the door, hearing Benson stand up and start to follow her. She decided to risk it and wiped her eyes, not really caring what Benson thought of her at this point.

She pushed the door open and got a few steps before her foot kicked something. She turned around and stared at the wall next to the door. Pip was sitting there, smoking a cigarette, his hat tilted down before his eyes. His hand reached up and pushed his hat up as he locked eyes with her.

Out of the corner of her mind, Seras vaguely hear Benson come to the doorway, stop, and gasp.

Ever so slowly, Pip reached up and took the cigarette out of his mouth. Finally, he spoke. "You're wrong," he said.

Seras sniffed again. "Again? What have I done to offend you this time?"

Pip started to uncurl up. He looked around for a place to dispose of his cigarette, and settled for putting it out on his hand.

"You're wrong when you say that it was all your fault. It was mine. I forget that it was your body. I forgot that it was your life. I had no right to try and fight for control of it. It was, and always will be, yours. I had lost mine, and that should have been my cross to bear. I shouldn't have put it out on you."

Seras started to blink furiously, then gave up. The tears began to stream slowly down her face. "I don't accept that," she said. "I should have been more thoughtful of you. I should have realized that how hard it would be to be a passenger for the rest of your life."

Pip shook his head. "It doesn't matter if you accept it or not! It's the truth! I was a selfish bastard! I have a history of it!"

Seras shook her head. "I can't accept that. It wasn't all your fault… Give me the right to be a bitch too."

Pip gritted his teeth. "Alright. You have the right to be a stupid, angry, tomboyish, bitch who's more afraid of sex than of any nasty out there that goes bump in the night!"

"And you," Seras spat, "are a thoughtless, mildly sex obsessed, perverted son of a bitch who spent most of his life worrying more about a pound note than any other actual person!" She wasn't even trying to hold back tears any longer.

Benson would say later that if she had blinked she might have missed it. One moment, they were two of the most miserable emotional wrecks she had ever seen, staring at each other from over a short, but noticeable, no-man's land they seemed to carry with them everywhere they went.

The next moment, they were in each other's arms. Seras shaking as she sobbed into Pip's shoulder. Pip found himself being pushed backwards gently into the wall, letting it support his weight and through him, Seras'. He buried his head into her hair and didn't even bother trying to put up a front of not crying. The cigarette lay on the floor beside them, forgotten.

Benson tentatively stubbed out the cigarette. "I'll… just be going now then?"

"Quiet night," Alucard noted.

"Complaining?" Integra said as she lit a cigar. "Would you rather be out there amongst the carnage? What was the phrase you always used?"

"Dancing on the killing fields, Sir Integra," Walter said as he placed a cup of tea on Integra's desk.

Integra nodded. Alucard turned and smiled. "It is possible to have too much of warfare, Countess. Eventually one does get tired of risking everything." He tilted his head to the side slightly. "Somehow, the odds are always against you."

A nervous cough attracted everyone's attention to the office door. Benson stood there at rigid attention. She saluted quickly. "Captain Victoria wishes me to inform you that she will be calling in sick tonight."

A Meaningful Look was shared amongst those in the room.

"Call in sick?" Sir Integra asked. "Did she happen to say with what? Perhaps she drank some diseased blood? Or maybe ate some solid food by mistake?"

Benson stared straight ahead into space, as all soldiers are trained to do when lying to their superiors. "She didn't say sir. Only that she needed the time off."

Integra quietly smoked her cigar for a while, staring at the young soldier. "Very well," she said finally. "These things happen. Inform Commander Fargason that he will be operating with out Victoria. He'll know what to do."

Benson saluted and left the room, gently closing the door behind her.

Another significant glance was shared. Walter smiled contentedly. "Well, I'm glad that's cleared up." He began to drop cubes of sugar into Integra's tea. "I hope the atmosphere will be a little cheerier around the mansion now."

"Indeed," Integra said as she sipped at her tea. She glanced over at Alucard, who was gazing out the window at the full moon again. "Your thoughts, Count?"

Alucard turned around, his grin wider than before. "I was thinking you and I should sit down with Captain Bernadette and discuss his 'intentions'."

"Are they ready?"

"Yes sir. They merely await your command."

"Is he ready?"

"Yes sir. It is the work of a moment to turn him."

"Will he know? Will he be like the Butler?"

"No. I had time. He will know. He will watch and witness every excruciating second."

"Good. Now go. Someone is coming. And the time is nigh."

Pip pulled another cigarette out of his pack and lit it. He inhaled deeply and let the smoke out in a plume in the air above him. He smiled, content with the world.

"You know, those are really bad for you," Seras' voice said, floating up from where her head was resting on his chest.

Pip took another drag on his cigarette. "Not for me. My body processes them like it was air. Don't have the nicotine addiction or the minor high or anything."

"Then what's the point of smoking them?"

"I dunno. Habit, I guess. Maybe because they make me look cool."

"No they don't. I always thought the cigarette made you look like you were trying too hard to look cool."

Pip frowned. "Really? Tell me you like that hat at least."

Seras laughed and reached up to tousle his hair. "Yes. I liked the hat. I didn't like the cigarettes, but I liked the hat from the moment I saw you."

Pip closed his eye in remembrance, than burst out laughing.

Seras looked up, startled. "What?" she asked.

"I was just thinking of when we first met," Pip responded. "First thing I said when I saw you. Remember?"

Seras thought for a moment, then burst out laughing as well.

They looked at each other, grinning. "If you're a vampire," they said together, "I'm bloody Frankenstein's monster!"

Anderson walked calmly through the dungeon, dragging a steel chair behind him. He swiveled it around to face the last cell in the row and sat down.

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, may you be forgiven for your sins and find your path to everlasting-"

"Spare me," Doctor Frankenstein said. He marked his page in the book and leaned forward, placing it beside him. "You can't pretend to me, priest. You may be officially defrocked and serving the Hellsing, but you cannot fool me. You are still serving your God and your Pope. You serve them with your betrayal. And you serve them with your information."

"Be that as it may," Anderson said, "We need to have a chat, you and I."

The Doctor turned his head to the side slightly. "And what would we be talking about?"

"About what you did to the boy. About what you could do to improve our regeneration technology." He leaned forward, clasping his hands between his legs. "About where the rest of Millennium is."

While he couldn't quite see him in the dark, Anderson got the definite impression that the Doctor was smiling. "Oh, those are easy enough questions, Father Anderson. For the first one, I did exactly what I said I would. I brought him back to life." He picked the book back up and started to leaf through it, as if looking for something. "As for the second, the idea intrigues me, but I must question what you can offer me in return?"

"Possibly a greater degree of freedom than you enjoy here. Perhaps absolution. These are not my concerns." His eyes flashed. "But do not expect that we will ever let you free. Your crimes are too great to go unpunished."

The Doctor stopped at a seemingly random page and marked it. "As for the third question. Well, they're everywhere, really." He looked up at Anderson as the light shone off of his multi-lensed glasses. "I doubt you are looking correctly, though."

"Now what on earth does that mean?" Anderson asked.

"So many important bodies never found, eh? The Captain's and Schrödinger's were gone, though who could have survived the Heindenberg II crashing onto them? Enrico's body gone as well. Very mysterious. But that is irrelevant, yes? You found the important body, didn't you? You found the Major's body. You yourself found it, Father Anderson. However, I do have to ask you one important question. If I may quote?" He held up the book. Dracula was written on its spine. The Doctor flipped it open to his marked page. "'Where did the blood go?'" he said, snapping the book shut.

He looked up at Anderson and smiled. As he spoke, his voice changed tone, pitch, and cadence. This was no longer a psychotic scientist with a god complex. No. This was a different voice. An authoritative voice. A voice used to giving commands. And a voice used to having them answered.

"Where did the blood in his body go, Father Alexander Anderson? It had to go somewhere. Where. Did. It. Go?"

Anderson's eyes widened. "No!" he shouted, springing to his feet and reaching for his blessed blades.

The Prisoner smiled and flicked his wrist. A remote came sliding down his sleeve. His finger hit the button.

"Now."

Several things happened at once.

An explosion rocked the compound as plastique detonated near the walls of the compound.

Windows smashed in as waves of soldiers poured in.

The walls themselves in Integra's office were torn away as a tall figure shot out from the darkness.

And in a small, dark room where two lovers quietly lay together, Pip's eyes snapped open wide.