Thank you to my reviewers, as well as to those of you who put this story on your alert/favorite list!
*Classes are starting soon, so it is with a heavy heart that I tell you all: updates will (more than likely) be less frequent. :( But do not despair; this story is not being dropped!
Please read, review, and enjoy! :)
I do not own Hellsing.
Everything was blurry, and although Amelia could clearly hear someone speaking, she wasn't able to piece together the meaning of their words.
Her body felt like it dropped a few feet rather suddenly, and she sucked in a deep breath. What's… going on? Blinking, her vision sharpened, although her thoughts remained sluggish.
For another couple of minutes she tried to focus on her surroundings and the voice. Her stomach felt queasy, and when she moved to put her hand on it in a comforting gesture, something brushed against her arm.
"…be a problem. It's probably the sedative wearing off."
A rumbling noise was coming from all around. She was in a plane – most likely the jet she saw before losing consciousness.
She was strapped in a chair, a small table in front of her. Across from her sat the man in the stained white coat. The dark patches were beginning to look a lot like blood, now that there was proper lighting.
Turning her head to the side, she saw a brown coat. That was familiar, although she wasn't going to tilt her head up to bother confirming her suspicions as to who was wearing it. With her senses sharpening, the earlier events trickled back in to haunt her.
"Good morning, Miss Harker." The man in dirty-white smiled at her, closing a thick binder sitting in his lap and placing it on the table.
Amelia's eyes remained on his hands, noticing that both his ring and little finger were stuffed into the same fabric pocket. He had six fingers. When she was able to drag her eyes back to his face, his expression was amused.
"Who are you, and where are you taking me?" Her voice was level but weak, and she squeezed the cuffs of her coat sleeves.
"We are an older company," replied the man, loosely crossing his arms. "One which has laid low, waiting for the right time to resurface. You may call me Doc; I look forward to working with you in the coming days. Next to you is the Captain, who was kind enough to escort you here." He spoke gently, as if reassuring a child.
I think I'm going to be sick. Amelia squirmed in her seat during the introduction, trying to hold back the frightened tears that were threatening to fall.
"As for where we are headed, South America is as specific as I can get with you." Doc leaned forward a little, lenses flashing in the light. "Would you like something to eat, Miss Harker? You don't look at all well."
"No." Her voice was strained. "I –," her cheeks darkened despite her predicament, "I need to use the bathroom. Now."
"I see," Doc said, and nodded to someone behind her.
Hands shaking, she managed to undo her seatbelt. The man next to her removed himself from his seat, and she quickly shuffled out and into the aisle.
Spotting a sign for the lavatory at the back of the jet, she pushed past a couple of men in uniforms, the unpleasant sensation in her stomach rising. Pulling open the door, she stumbled inside the bathroom, not bothering to lock the door behind her.
Leaning over the toilet, she retched. Her eyes burned again, and this time she was unable to hold back the tears.
A single, sharp knock came from the other side of the door.
"I'm…" she rasped, her throat sore, "…fine." The last word was no louder than a whisper. It was a horrible lie, but she really didn't want to be bothered.
Coughing, she steadied herself for a couple of minutes, not moving until she was sure nothing more would come up. Then she pulled on the chain of toilet paper, wiped her mouth, and flushed everything down. She washed her mouth out with water from the sink and rubbed her sleeve across her eyes and cheeks. The nausea was gone, but she was beginning to feel cold; it was probably dehydration.
Someone knocked on the door again, and it opened slowly from the outside, revealing the large frame of the Captain.
Probably came to make sure I'm not trying to kill myself. She smiled mirthlessly and pushed herself away from the sink, grabbing the doorframe for support.
The silent man took a step back to let her pass.
For a moment she stood still, staring at the buttons on the chest of his coat, taking deep breaths. You've got to keep your wits about you. Think, Amelia. If you can't stay calm, you won't be able to find a way out of this mess.
Her gaze dropped to the floor and she stepped out of the doorway, moving down the aisle and back to her seat. Buckling herself in, she folded her arms over her stomach and looked out the window. It was dark outside, but the sky was shifting to a lighter shade of blue.
Doc had pulled out a pen and opened the binder, scribbling something on one of the pages. The Captain, who had taken his seat beside her, sat as motionless as a statue, and although he was facing forward, she had a feeling he was watching her.
Her eyelids lowered, but she forced herself to stay awake. Sleep, or any form of unconsciousness, was the enemy right now. She was better off – safer – if she was awake.
"It's so lifeless in here, Doc." Guns were raised, Amelia stifled a gasp, and all heads but the Captain's turned at the high-pitched boyish voice.
"Schrödinger!" The spectacled man moved to stand, only for his seatbelt to catch him, sending him flopping back in the seat. Grumbling in annoyance, he released the lock and in a few steps was standing in front of the one who had interrupted the silence.
Confusion set itself on Amelia's face as she looked at the new arrival, who had appeared out of nowhere.
A young teenage boy dressed in a Hitler Youth uniform sat on the arm rest of a seat across the aisle. Pink eyes opened wide in innocence, and feline ears flattened against his head as the thin man grabbed him by his collar and gave him a shake.
Those ears – are they real? He's like some kind of cat-boy… thing: a character out of father's stories.
"Schrödinger, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be with the Major!"
"The Major sent me to check up on things – see if you're doing your job." The boy gave a particularly cat-like grin, teasing the older man.
Doc's jaw clenched and he looked like he was seriously considering strangling the teenager.
"Eh?" Schrödinger seemed to notice her then, leaning out from behind the Captain to look at him. His expression turned to one of unsuccessfully repressed interest, head cocked to the side. He stared at her.
She stared back at him, uncertainly.
He leaned forward. "Guten Morgen."
She didn't move.
He still wasn't blinking.
Amelia looked away, her face flushed, and leaned back in the seat so that the Captain's body hid her from the cat-boy's relentless stare. The inhuman teen's undivided attention was making her uncomfortable.
"Stop staring!" Doc admonished.
The Captain's red eyes darted from her to the males who had begun arguing again. If his face wasn't always emotionless, she was certain it would convey weariness.
"Get out, Schrödinger! You've done your job, so go report!"
When there was silence, Amelia peeked around the Captain to see Doc standing alone.
"Little pest," he hissed, lowering back into his seat and strapping himself in. "Just ignore him, Miss Harker," he addressed her, reaching into his coat and pulling out a pocket watch, only to scowl at it.
"T-that's not right." She clarified. "My name: it's not Harker."
Doc's frown upturned a little. "Yes, your family had it changed, didn't they? Rest assured, your true last name is Harker."
Not sure what to say to that, she didn't comment further.
"Make yourself comfortable Miss Harker, we still have a long trip ahead of us." He picked up his binder and left her to decide how she would spend her time.