I would just like to clarify: The "13 years ago" bit is NOT a typo. This story takes place during their fourteenth anniversary; therefore the very first anniversary would have been thirteen years ago. Fourteen years ago would have been the event itself.
Disclaimer: -sigh- I wish.
13 years ago- The Hellsing Organization shooting gallery
Blam!
The gun's kick snapped her wrists up, and momentarily robbed her of breath. The power, the thrill of pulling the trigger always ruled her, ever since that night, one year ago, when she had first shot a gun.
Integra slipped the shields off her ears, and they fell to hang about her neck by the connecting band. She slapped the button for the target to move all the way forward, enabling her to check her aim. The machinery whirred as the black silhouette traveled closer, until halting two feet from the booth.
Her shots had all gone wild, only two punching holes in the black form. Integra groaned, and leaned her back against the side of a stall, skirt swishing around her ankles. This was the third clip she'd emptied in thirty minutes, and had ranked up a total of twelve points. Twelve. I'm amazed I even managed to shoot Uncle.
Soft footsteps sounded from behind her, and Alucard entered her field of vision. He'd left his chair, and leisurely walked over to her stall. He leaned his shoulder against the opposite partition, folding his arms, and studying the results of her session. Or I suppose, the lack of result.
In one swift motion the midan ripped the paper off the metal clamps, crushing it before letting it drop to the gallery floor. She stared at him in surprise, as he turned his head to look at her. "Shooting like that is a waste of your time. You aren't seeing, or feeling, the target in your mind."
"Only vampires can do that." Integra stepped back up to the little counter, busying her hands with the task of reloading. She nearly jumped in shock as her servant pressed against her back, leaning over her small form.
"Untrue. Every mortal has a third eye, a sixth sense, that makes them dodge before the blow is going to fall, weep before the news has come, or feel impending disaster." He wound his arm around her shoulder, bringing one finger to rest squarely between her brows. "Vampires are simply given full use of this sense; it becomes as natural as seeing, or touching. But that doesn't mean you have to be undead to waken at least a very small part of it. Do you understand what I mean, Master?" His hand lifted to the ear shields, slipping them up, and settling the band on her head. Her perception of the world dulled, the sound of her own minute movements smothered. She watched as his hand wrapped around her right wrist, lifting it to center on a target that was not yet there.
She tapped the button with her left hand, then brought it up in the cup-and-saucer hold on the gun. Her left hand cupped the heel of her right hand, and her left thumb locked over her right. She leaned forward, and scooted her right foot back, cold against Alucard's. She was the picture of form.
His left hand spread on the counter, and his right slid slowly up her arm, shaking the gun. It came to rest against her neck, one finger lightly brushing her jaw. "Don't just look at the target, feel it. Center your whole being on the one spot between your enemy's eyes, and touch it with a bullet. Do it." She heard him clearly, his voice finding her ears through the heavy plastic. I wonder, did I even hear him with my ears at all?
She shoved the question to the back of her mind, along with the interesting sensation of Alucard's index finger tracing her jaw. She narrowed her eyes at the fresh, dark shape, illuminated by an angled light in the ceiling. Her heart's pounding slowed, the thumps few and far between. She became numb, unable to feel the skirt against her thighs or contact on her throat. Integra saw it, like it was an inch from her nose, the circle in the middle of the sable head. Her finger tensed on the trigger, a sluggish creak of bone.
"Do it."
Blam!
The shields were gingerly removed from her ears, and the vampire set them down on the white counter with a click. She pressed the button once more with shaking hands, and the paper jerked as the clamps slid along their wires. The target fluttered to a stop, and Integra stared, transfixed, at the neat hole in its forehead.
"Do you see now, Master?"
She made no reply, but was suddenly aware of the weight on the side of her throat. The icy digit still traveled along her jawbone, and she was sure that if Alucard had been a cat, he would be purring with satisfaction.
"Alucard, remove yourself… and never touch me like that again. Understood?"
"Yes, my Master." His hand fell from her body, and she felt him step away. She looked over her shoulder, and saw him return to his chair, a contented smile on his lazy features.
They spent the entire night there, her shooting, him watching in silence. Walter had not yet returned from a conference in America and there was no one to insist that Integra had to rest. It was not until the next morning, when Walter came into her office, that she discovered the reason for last night's event.
Walter rapped on the open door before entering, a tray of steaming tea balanced on his fingertips. Integra hardly looked up, finger following lines of text that she had to force her brain to recognize. She was exhausted from last night's adventure.
"Good Morning, Miss Hellsing, and congratulations." The butler set the tray down with the clink of silver, and proceeded to pour the drink. Integra looked up wearily, and clasped the hot tea with one hand, wincing at the burn.
"Good morning, and welcome back, Walter." She sipped at the fiery liquid, burning her tongue and effectively banishing any trace of weariness. Integra bit back a yelp, and set the cup down, as Walter carefully hid his amusement. All of a sudden, the last bit of his greeting caught up with her, and she studied him quizzically.
"Congratulations? What for?"
"Last night was the first anniversary of your leadership, Sir."
She frowned. "Walter, I wasn't knighted or given command of the Hellsing Organization for three more weeks."
Walter bowed, his eyes twinkling. "My mistake, Lord Hellsing. If you will excuse me, then…"
Integra waved him away, mind still buzzing with his words. Last night was the anniversary of Uncle's death, and… Alucard. Slowly, she smiled, finally comprehending. What Walter means is that last night, one year ago, I took on the burdens of the family. And that's why Alucard… I see now.
Grinning, she returned to her work, gingerly sipping at the piping tea.
Present Day-
Seras tapped her fingers on the table, staring at the back cover of Walter's book. Pip had decided to sleep, and his rest made her sluggish as well. The vampiress reached over with her left arm, adjusting her new long-sleeved uniform. The mass of darkness that replaced her missing limb swayed in the confines of the cloth tube, capped by a glove sewn on to the end. Her Mas- No, Alucard, was trying to teach her how to give the nothingness shape, to fill the glove like she would with an arm of flesh and blood. The lessons were difficult, and certainly not any easier with Pip's voice whispering in her ear. Only recently had she managed to maintain the form for any length of time. Carefully, she moved a phantom muscle, and tendrils of shadow exploded out of the cuff, spilling over the wooden table.
She yelped in surprise, and Walter nearly fell out of his chair, book sailing into the air. The tea at his elbow went flying off of the table, liquid splashing everywhere. The cup! Without stopping to think, Seras threw her mass of shadow out underneath the cup, and it landed on a cushion of darkness. She looked over at Walter, who had simultaneously snatched the poetry from midair. The vampiress smiled weakly, and brought the cup back to rest on the table. "I'm so sorry, Walter."
He set the book down on the table with a faint slap, and smiled ruefully. "Think nothing of it. I must say, being dead certainly has its advantages." He caught up a dishtowel, and began to mop up the mess. "For one thing, my back doesn't ache anymore when I clean." Seras looked down at her hand, and sighed. But you sound miserable. Poor Walter… I wish it could be undone.
Oh, how I wish…
Then again, would she really want to go back to being human? If she were human, Pip would be gone forever. And I couldn't bear that.
-Glad to hear it, ma cherie.- Pip murmured from the depths of her mind, his voice heavy with sleep.
I love you.
-Me too. I'm going back to zleep.- She shook her head as he faded out once more. Men.
Honestly though, she wasn't sure what she'd say, given the opportunity to be mortal. With the missions Hellsing undertook, mortals never lasted long. It would be silly to just go and die again after returning from death. This may be better. Her eye fell on the wriggling rope of blackness on the table, and she began to think again. But look at me! I'm a MONSTER! I drank the blood of the only man I really loved… ugh… She buried her face in her hand, and moaned.
"What's wrong, Miss Victoria?" She looked up, and Walter stood next to her, concern in his eyes and sopping rag in tow.
"It's nothing, Walter. I'm just… thinking."
"I see."
Some way from the house, Master and Monster walked together, unknowingly lost in the same memory from long ago.