A/N: Acheron is one of the rivers in Hades - Lethe (forgetfulness,) Styx (hate,) Acheron (woe,) Cocytus (lamentation,) and Phlegethon (fire.) I'm working on Styx at the moment; Cocytus and Phlegethon are on my list to write as well for Icarus.
"Happy Birthday, Walter."
Walter looked up at Maggie, the downstairs maid, and gave her a cheery wave before ducking into his room and closing the door with a sigh of relief.
He lit a cigarette and looked at his reflection in the mirror the night made of his bedroom windows. He had a feeling that the young man with the old eyes he saw there wasn't supposed to be dreading birthdays at only sixteen.
"You're going to do it again this year?"
"Yes, Alucard, I'm going to do it again this year." Walter didn't turn to look at the vampire he couldn't see reflected in the window. "Why don't you go find better company tonight?"
"This is a foolish waste of time. Every year you mope around your birthday and the anniversary of your parents' deaths. They're dead and you're growing older – both things are unavoidable."
"Then I'll foolishly waste my time by myself. It's my time and my birthday; I'll do what I want." Walter rummaged quickly through his desk for money and car keys.
Alucard leaned against Walter's door and watched him collect those few items and a coat. "Let me guess. You'll be driving down into London, where you will go to the site where your home stood. There, you will walk around, smoke cigarettes, and indulge yourself in needless sorrow over your survival and their deaths."
Walter scowled at the vampire. "My parents died on my damned birthday! Forgive me for not feeling like eating cake and singing songs."
"And you are now somehow responsible for the Germans' decision to bomb London on that night? Or maybe you were to blame for the full moon that made the bombing a better proposition?"
He remained blocking Walter's exit and gave him a thin shadow of a smile. "You take revenge as you can – and you have. You enjoy the life you have – and you usually do. And you do not waste your time grieving the past or things over which you had no control."
"You know, if I wanted the inscrutable wisdom of the ancients, I'd go see a Charlie Chan film." Walter stood staring down at the vampire, trying to stay angry while the monster that was really his only friend smiled up at him.
Alucard shook his head and still refused to move. "Or you could stay here with your friend, who is an inscrutable ancient."
"No. Get out of the way. Consider it your birthday gift to me."
"No," and while Alucard stood aside to allow Walter to pass, he followed close on the young man's heels.
"Go on. I left some of your favorite blood type in the refrigerator. Enjoy it. I'll be back later. I promise you that no mugger or rapist will get me on my birthday." He thought he'd almost like to see one try. It would give him something to do.
He turned around, surprised that Alucard didn't continue bothering him, but the vampire was gone.
Home.
Walter walked through the empty lot where his home had stood. There was no rubble. No refuse. Technically, he owned this plot of land, but his home was at Hellsing.
Standing where the kitchen had been, he closed his eyes and remembered the birthday cake his mum had made for him. He'd thought he'd been so lucky when he found the little silver charm in his slice of the lemon cake.
Our lucky boy.
Our son.
Happy birthday, Walter.
We love you.
"Then why'd you leave me?" he asked the empty lot.
Walter went still as a scream ripped the night air, then turned his head from side to side, trying to trace it. For long moments, he heard nothing but the night sounds of a city that didn't shut down because of the blackout imposed as part of the war.
"Help!" The cry was panicked, a scream, not a shout.
There were no streetlights, and every alley was mineshaft-dark, but Walter followed the sounds of screams to the mouth of another stygian alley and didn't hesitate to plunge into the darkness to stop the screaming, one way or another.
A turn in the alley brought it into moonlight and Walter could make out two figures, occasional flashes of thrashing white skin that told the boy what he was witnessing.
"Get the fuck off of her!" He grabbed the man's hair and hauled him off of the woman, throwing him against a wall. He kicked the man as he tried to get up, first in the ribs, and then in the face. The sound of bones breaking was a satisfying one in the relative silence as the woman's cries cut off into muted sobs.
Memories surfaced as he kicked the man. Memories of Poland, and the werewolf, and… He kicked harder, sobbing in rage.
For an unmeasurable time, the alley was filled with the dull thud of kicks that rained down and Walter's harsh and broken breathing.
Fuck you!
Fuck rapists!
Fuck the Germans.
And their bombers.
Fuck werewolves.
Fuck vampires.
Fuck my birthday.
Fuck all of this!
Walter finally realized that his target hadn't moved for some time. The wall against which the man had slumped was splattered with a glistening blackness that he knew from years of experience would be a grisly red in the daylight.
The man made no sound as the boy rolled him over with his foot. Maybe he was limp and floppy because he was unconscious, but really, as a child of war, Walter knew better.
He'd killed a man.
No. He'd kicked a man to death and didn't regret it at all.
The dead man's victim was long gone. Walter didn't remember her leaving, but he supposed that was understandable; he'd been in a bit of a killing trance when those memories returned to him in a circumstance where he could have such a very effective catharsis.
He remembered Alucard's offer to take the memories and smiled down at the dead man's body. In two years, the vampire had never hinted that he knew something like that about Walter, when even Walter didn't know it.
And now, two years later, he could live with those memories. They'd returned to him in a moment when he had the power. He nudged the dead rapist with his foot and smiled one more time before turning to leave the alley.
It seemed Lady Luck had finally decided to smile on his birthday. Walter thought her smile might just have some very sharp teeth in it, but he was smiling, too, as he emerged from the alley, leaving bloody footprints behind himself for the better part of a block until he reached his car.
Behind him, the dead man sat up and chuckled to himself. "Help. Help," Alucard mocked as he put his own face back on and pulled the shadows that had formed the "woman" into himself.
"Happy birthday, Angel," he said with satisfaction. He had a feeling he had finally broken Walter of his maudlin habit of birthday woe.