Disclaimer: Hellsing is not mine. But this fanfic idea is-- but I am not doing this for profit even I need money. -;

A/N: Rewrote the fanfic. Well, just a beta-test. I promise to upload and finish Choices this summer (in spite of OJT) and start a new fic. Heaven knows I need something else to think about! This is for all those who reviewed and liked this fic.My utmost thanks.

Issues that are found in neither anime nor manga are merely my assumptions. This chapter is also inspired by the song "Reflections" the Leah Salonga version. I hope you like it so review, please!

Thanks is also given to Intensity! Shrine to Integra Wingates Hellsing site for the info about Integra-sama.

oOo- flash backs

italics- thoughts/telepathy

Chapter II

Reflections of the Past

Integra hesitated as she reached her room. She simply had no energy to face the duke or the Queen's retinue but Seras Victoria, Alucard's fledgling, had stood there, waiting patiently. "I am sorry if I took the liberty of choosing your clothes, Sir Integra--," the policewoman began apologizing. She let out an inward sigh.

"Get on with it," she interrupted sharply the other words the policewoman was about to say. The younger blonde-haired girl gave her an odd look before she quickly picked up a powder blue dress and showed it to her. She nodded briefly, not caring or hearing the excited jabber the young policewoman. She took off the cross pin of her tie, almost absently and laid it on her vanity table. Her eyes moved to a picture when she was twelve—her long blonde hair free, her dusky skin fresh and her blue eyes twinkling merrily and childishly. It was her father himself who took that snapshot. She glanced at the mirror. Same long blonde hair, same dusky skin but the eyes were different. It was darker, somber and weary, the childish vibrancy and innocence long ago extinguished.

Her eyes flicked on the bed. On her four-poster bed, there were various clothes for women. It had been a long time since I had worn a dress, she thought with a tinge of nostalgia, fingering the fabric of the blue sundress. Among the other things I have given up, she thought. She began to strip off her jacket and shirt, shrugging in her dressing robe to begin her bath.

She had worn men's clothing, preferred cigars to perfume and assumed a male stance in handling her duties. She even had taken up a male's title—preferring the title "Sir" or "Lord" than "Lady" as a knight. It was not as if she detested what her gender is, she rationalized as she sank down to the relaxing waters. She is a woman, and proud of it. But in order to survive in a male-dominated world, she had to conceal her femininity and all it symbolized because it had been considered weakness to be a woman as a Knight; the Round Table had made her conscious of that. It had never been an issue to her father that his eldest child and only heir is a female, although she knew her father had sometimes wished for another son. When she had once asked, his father had merely laughed…

oOo

She had been twelve. They were at the rose garden, having tea after her afternoon lessons. It was a rare time her father was free from his duties to indulge her in joining her for the afternoon tea. She had realized how much she had missed her father's presence. He made her laugh as he teased her while she told her stories about her studies in general. He listened to her with grave amusement and interest. When she was breathless after regaling her one of the scrapes she had gone while practicing her fencing, he gave her a look filled with much tenderness that she paused. When he asked her, he had smiled at her.

"You are finally growing up, Integra, into a fine woman. I wish you to remain a princess, child, but God had willed you to be my heir. And you are proving to be worthy," his eyes twinkled as he teased, "Even you still do fall asleep in Mathematics."

She made a glum face. "Math is soo boring, Father." She absently began to spread jam on her scone, and then blurted out. "Why don't you marry again, Father? I'm sure Mother won't mind and I'd like another sibling…" she blushed when she had realized what she was saying. "Forgive me, Father," she had mumbled embarrassedly. "I did not mean to…" She looked away, blushing embarrassedly.

Her father had nodded and lit his cheroot. "It is no matter, child. Perhaps your mother would have not minded. Indeed, she had actually encouraged me to. But I would." He blew out the fragrant smoke. "Your mother and I had respected and cared for each other the way no one can ever know," he had replied that sunny spring afternoon. "No one can replace your mother here," he had pointed to his heart.

She had smiled gently at that. "Mother must have been a truly remarkable woman." Her eyes became sad as she added wistfully, "I only wish I had met her."

His father looked at her fondly. "But you have, my dear." She had looked up in surprise, as his father continued, "Not in pictures, not in memory." He pointed at the glass that reflected their faces. "She's there."

Puzzled, the young girl peered at the glass. "But how could she be there in the glass, Father? There's only the two of us."

Her father tilted his head to one side. "My darling, it is because you have your mother's face," he said softly. "You are as lovely as your mother, child," he added with emotion. "And her spirit is with you."

She had laughed in the childish, innocent way only children do. Then she sobered and whispered, "Thank you, Father."

oOo

Finally dressed in the powder blue sundress, her hair swept up and an intricately gold-crusted sapphire necklace on her neck, Integra stared again at the mirror. The blue gemstone winked like cold chips of ice. It was an heirloom she had only seen after her father died but never wore. Except now.

To her surprise, she never realized how much she resembled like her dead mother. A woman she never knew—save for her dreams and her father's albums and stories. A strong-willed woman, albeit with a fragile body, Walter told her. She never had the chance to see her daughter grow up. For the first time, Integra felt the uncertainty of a woman who will never be accepted for who she wanted to be because she doesn't know who she really is. Although it was already clear her to her what she is meant to be—a knight of the realm, sworn to protect her country, faith and sovereign, because of the same duties she was sworn in, she was put into this untenable position. She walked to her dresser, while Seras held a brush. She wasn't even aware of the things she placed on her face but she let her do what the younger woman had to do.

Integra caught her reflection in the mirror. She recalled a song she had heard a long time ago, something that caught her fancy when she allowed herself to still enjoy her youth. She almost smiled at the irony that the Chinese maiden she had at first pitied and later on admired was now singing her plight.

Look at me
I will never pass for
A perfect bride

Or a perfect daughter
Can it be
I'm not meant to play
This part?

Since the beginning, I had not played the part I was meant to be as a woman and a daughter. Integra mused grimly. I had never been made to become a perfect bride for a nobleman. She corrected herself. Or for any man, for that matter. Nor had I even been raised a perfect daughter but a perfect heir and knight to replace my father.

Now I see
That if I were to truly
To be myself
I would break
My family's heart

If I were truly be myself… What would I be? Integra bit her lip. Oh, Father…I am grateful the way you raised me and I never wanted to disappoint you. But why is it so hard to do what is right?

Who is that girl I see
Staring straight
Back at me?
Why is my reflection someone
I don't know?

She heard the police girl gasp in surprise and something else as she finished the elaborate make-up. She gazed at the mirror as Seras asked her shyly, "What do you think, Sir Integra?" Obviously, she couldn't see the younger vampire's expression on the mirror's reflection but she repressed the bitter laugh welling from inside her. I look like a painted doll off to be sold to the highest bidder. A helpless doll, decked with silk, perfumed powders and jewels to attract men and marriage. Integra turned away from the mirror. Is this what I've become now? Where is the proud knight who swore to protect England? She couldn't bear to see what she saw.

Somehow I cannot hide
Who I am
Though I've tried
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?

Her eyes fell on the discarded suit on the bed. I hid my true self under those clothes. Or was that really my true self and I am now hiding under these trappings? God help me, who am I really? Why do I feel like a puppet subjected to other people's whims?

When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?

"It is done, you may stand now." She turned, seeing Seras smile at her encouragingly. How I envy the police girl for being free to be who she really is. She paused. Is that why l feel antagonized whenever I see her? Because I can't be like her?

Seras watched the elegantly garbed yet still daunting figure of the Hellsing leader regally stand from her ministrations. With awe and admiration shining from her scarlet eyes, she could not believe that this was the same Sir Integra she came to know. As a knight, she looked cold and forbidding but dressed as a fashionable noble woman, she was simply stunning. But all throughout the affair of making her up, she was not unaware of the thoughts of her Master's master. Not that she dared reading her mind but her thoughts and expressions fairly broadcasted the uncertainties and anxieties she felt. Somehow, she never expected Sir Integra to have such doubts. To her surprise, she never thought that the reason of her aloofness towards her was a result of jealousy with her freedom rather than personal dislike. Beneath the show of courage and coolness, her vulnerability struck a chord of sympathy for the older woman.

Seras wanted to say something to lighten and encourage the stoic-faced woman but she felt a little foolish. What would I say to her? It's as if I had more experience… She stopped as she realized that as a normal human woman, she had indeed more experience than the older woman. With that thought propelling and giving her courage, she called out to the departing woman. "Lord Integra…?"

"Yes, police girl?" Her voice was coolly level as usual. She did not turn but Seras saw how agitated she was by looking how her gloved hand gripped the knob tightly. Seras' heart went out to the conflicting heart and mind of the older woman.

Seras stammered as she swallowed down her apprehension. "I—I just wanted to say—that is… that—to find the answer, follow your heart." Damn great, Seras! That just sounded stupid. When she didn't move, Seras took a fortifying breath, out of nervous habit, not that she needed it and continued, her courage building. "I've come to admire and respect you for who you are, Sir Integra—as a leader and as a woman. You do not care a fig to what people think-- they don't matter, anyway. You are the only one who knows exactly who you are and what you want to do is your business." Integra's head shot up in surprise and the movement of her head alarmed Seras. Thinking she angered her, she said with a small voice. "Please don't think I've been reading your mind. I thought that…well…I was worried about you, sir," she finished lamely.

Integra finally turned. She was a vision of femininity and grace as well as poise and icy hauteur but Seras had now detected the cracks of self-doubt and innocence from the real world reflected in her eyes. A faint smile played on her lips. "That is kind of you," she murmured. "I appreciated the assistance and your sentiments. Well, carry on."

Seras sighed inwardly in relief as she nodded respectfully to the older woman and turned her back to pick up the clothes on her bed but was halted when Integra asked her a question. "Seras? Do you think that I am beautiful?"

Seras' jaw dropped and she blushed furiously. "Er…I…uh, it's not my place to say it but I think you are quite beautiful tonight, Sir Integra," she stammered. The older woman briefly closed her eyes, as if mulling over her answer. Seras sighed with relief as Sir Integra finally opened the door but paused, her following question made her drop the clothes she was carrying.

"Do you think then that I can be loved by someone and that someone would want me not because of what I am but who I really am?"

Seras spun around, her mouth open, too flustered to even utter a word. Integra took in her stunned features and laughed softly. "I see that I have shocked you, police girl. Ignore it, they were rhetorical questions, any way." Then smiling truly now, she said, "Thank you for being honest with me."

With that, she closed the door.

TBC