Disclaimer: I didn't include this last time, I don't own Hellsing or anything related and it's frankly quite ridiculous to suppose that I do.
A/N Thanks to all the reviewers, you managed to reduce my mental state to that of an excited puppy with all your wonderful encouragement and lest anyone doubts the power of the reviewer, here I am writing this when I really should be studying, all to get a fast update in.
Chapter 2:
The house was beautiful, surprisingly so. Enrico had been in safe-houses before and it seemed that there was a general air of secure ugliness about them. He was surprised that the fiercely practical British did not join this consensus. The house was an eighteenth century parsonage, all mellow stone and mullioned windows. It was tucked into a corner of the South Downs, through the hills you could catch a glimpse of The English Channel, and Enrico cast a longing look at it, wishing with all his heart that he was on the other side of it. He was jolted out of his reverie by the sound of clipped English tones floating over from the parsonage.
"Good evening, Sir Integra, Father Maxwell," Walter smiled beatifically as he advanced towards them, he'd been here since mid-day making the house ready, knowing that Sir Integra would expect everything to be perfect so as not to give Father Maxwell anything to criticise. Assisted by Father Renaldo he took their luggage, leaving Integra and Enrico to follow behind, they parted with a curt nod on the upstairs landing.
"You got here quickly, Walter," Integra smiled and lit a cigar, as Walter unpacked.
"I thought it incumbent upon me to make a good first impression, something that would not be achieved by you turning up to an empty, cold house," he replied.
"You did right," said Integra quietly, then brightening she cast an affectionate look at her butler, "what would I do without you?"
"I'm sure you'd manage," laughed Walter, "but on that note, I've installed the necessary communications and I've assigned Captain Bernadette, Officer Seras and Alucard to the protection of this house." Seeing that Integra was about to protest, he quickly continued, "you must understand, your protection is of the greatest importance, Maxwell has not hesitated to summon Iscariot operatives, including Paladin Andersong."
Integra sighed, "well I suppose we must hope that no great threat occurs while I am here, you realise this would be the perfect opportunity?"
"I do not think it is a trap, Sir Integra, and if it is, our forces can be as easily mobilised here as they can from London."
"True, true," replied Integra, "I'm just going to go outside; I need to clear my head."
Meanwhile in Enrico's room the reality of his situation had just sunk in, and the Iscariot leader made a very dejected picture, he was currently seated on the end of his bed furiously massaging his forehead, willing the pain to stop. He slumped forward and muttered into his hands, "I must have committed a most grievous sin to deserve this." He had felt slightly less wretched when he heard that Heinikel, Yumiko and Andersong were coming, at least he wouldn't be totally reliant on the Protestants. He envied Father Renaldo's apparent peace of mind; the man could relax and trust himself to God. Enrico had no such luxury; he would be forced to constantly watch himself around that Protestant sow. Enrico sighed, he really needed to clear his head, he quietly slipped down-stairs and once outside, drew great relieved gulps of air. Once his head had stopped spinning he found himself enjoying the setting sun on his face and the soft fragrances coming from the garden. It was odd, he thought how these sensations were so much softer than in Italy, as though everything was being viewed through a sepia tint. He shuddered as he realised that he'd almost made a favourable comparism between this and the scorching Italian summers, mind you, he smirked if he'd had to endure one of those bone-chilling British winters, his affection for his native country would probably increase tenfold.
Enrico strolled through the rose garden lost in these calming reflections but presently his nose caught the scent of a cigar, he cursed mentally and looked for somewhere to hide. (A/N: If anyone gets the novel I'm referring to, lots of English Literature kudos to you!) Enrico paused, no, why should he hide from her? He strode forward, his frown deepening as the cigar smoke got stronger, the smell causing him to immediately want to light up.
Integra groaned inwardly as she saw Maxwell coming round the corner, his face like thunder, well that's curious she thought, he's actually showing irritation.
Enrico had intended to be polite, he really had, but the sight of Sir Integra, lounging, quite at ease, contentedly puffing away at a delicacy he had denied himself really, really annoyed him. He'd given up his cigarettes last year as a penance and his reward had been incessant headaches and a sharp deterioration in his temper. He couldn't afford to slip up in front of Sir Integra, but it was extremely hard when his inner spoilt brat was persistently screaming, "want nicotine, want nicotine now!"
Integra looked curiously over at Maxwell, if her eyes weren't deceiving her, his hands were actually shaking, and his eyes seemed particularly fixated on…her cigar? Comprehension dawned in Integra's mind and with it a truly evil smile as she remembered their less recent meetings, Maxwell had chain-smoked all the way through, that was it! He was on cold turkey! If Integra hadn't had such a tight reign on her emotions she would have had difficulty stopping herself crowing with glee.
"Maxwell," Integra said nonchalantly, "you have a fondness for smoking, correct? Why don't you try one of these? It might make a change from your dreadful Italian cigarettes."
Enrico tried to smile, but he had the uncomfortable suspicion it looked more like a snarl than anything else, "I'm afraid I'm attempting to conquer my habit, Sir Integra," he said frostily, knowing that Integra knew of his difficulty.
"Indeed?" Integra coolly raised a brow, "how very admirable," she smirked as she uttered the last word, clearly showing that she thought it was anything but, and she deliberately openly savoured her cigar.
"Perhaps," said Enrico turning on his heel, he wasn't up to his normal standard of politeness, he knew but this conversation needed to end now. After reaching the shelter of the house he risked glancing out of the window, Integra was still standing there, smoking, the fading light reflecting off of her glasses and her face stern beneath them.
Enrico bid good-night to Father Renaldo and slumped down in his room, idly noticing how pleasant it was, it would be so much easier, he thought wretchedly, if he didn't dream of her as well, he knew she'd haunt him tonight, he'd relive their conversation. They weren't like the dreams that the trainee priests would brokenly confess to him a proof of their sinful nature, but they still made Enrico blush, for in his sleep, his eyes; free of the confines his conscious mind placed on them during the day, would pick out the way her lips curved round the cigar, the way her suit curved…no. Enrico cursed, disgusted with himself, for that's all his dreams meant, he felt a contemptible physical attraction towards his enemy, something that was not uncommon but still should have been destroyed all the same. Enrico went to sleep full of savage resolutions, but he dreamt of her nonetheless.
Meanwhile, Integra waited in the garden till the light faded entirely away, and as the sun slipped down under the horizon she smiled wryly and softly said, "he really is an asshole," and you could have been forgiven for thinking she sounded fond.
A/N: Well that was more reflective than I thought it would be, I promise a return to action in the next chapter and some proper arguments between Enrico and Integra and we renew our acquaintance with the rest of the Hellsing and Iscariot team.
Please R&R! It's a huge encouragement! I'll try to keep the updates fast because I've planned out about 13 chapters.