Thank you to my reviewers: AwesomeJellyBean, Angelic, and Magpies and Pie! I also give my thanks to those of you who have added this story to your alert/favorite lists, and to you too, silent readers. But as long as you're all enjoying this piece composed by my crazy imagination, I am content. :)
Lent has come to an end, and so I have returned!
Please read, review, and enjoy! :)
I do not own Hellsing.
Amelia felt her eyelids lower as she stared at the open book on her lap. She had been looking at the same page for about ten minutes, and had yet to read any of it.
After returning to the laboratory the day before, she had done nothing but flip through Doc's science books half-heartedly.
Every couple of hours the books' owner would enter the room and ask her how she felt, listen to her heart beat, and take a small blood sample. The Captain was always close by when the checkups took place, giving Amelia the impression that her captors were waiting for her to attack someone. But the man only watched, face shadowed by his cap and arms unmoving at his sides.
It was this silent man's fault, Amelia decided, that she had not slept the night before and would likely not sleep tonight. As far as she knew, he had not left the laboratory since escorting her the day before. Being under watch for twenty-four hours was unsettling to say the least, and despite the absence of indecency on his part, she found herself unable to relax.
Now she squinted in concentration at the scribbled writing on the page before her, trying to grasp the meaning of each word. She managed to get through the first sentence before her attempted reading was distracted by a soft rustling noise close by. Wary, she straightened her posture, looking around.
The Captain was gone from his earlier position by Doc's desk. His sudden disappearance from one area and appearance in a different one was becoming routine; he definitely moved around the lab, but Amelia could never catch sight of him in the act.
Seeing no one nearby, she turned back to her book, listening. Another small scraping noise came from the bookcase behind her, the vibrations noticeable against her back even with her layers of clothing. Behind me? Something poked the back of her head, and she twisted around, letting out a surprised gasp and scuttling away from the bookcase, the book in her lap falling to the floor.
The books level with her head had been pushed aside to make room for a youthful face. "Ah, Miss Harker!" Schrödinger's pink eyes darted left and right in a sly manner. "You don't see the Captain do you?" The cat-boy whispered.
"No," Amelia answered, frowning when she realized she was whispering too. What is this, gossip? She leaned closer to catch the teenager's quiet words.
"Do you feel like a vampire? Are you thirsty for blood?"
"What? No." Amelia drew back slightly, looking at the boy crouching on the other side of the bookcase. "Why are you speaking from behind that bookcase?"
The cat-boy pulled a face. "Doc said you could snap unexpectedly. And I get tired of dying left and right, you know?" Oblivious to Amelia's concerned stare at this comment, he continued. "But I came to tell you…" He inched farther between the shelves and grinned. "The Major said you're going to fight." His grin stretched from ear to ear. "Maybe like a gladiator in the Coliseum! Only I don't think you'll be given weapons, and we don't actually have a coliseum."
Amelia was silent as she picked up the fallen book, straightening a couple of its crinkled pages. After a small sigh she stood up, Schrödinger's questioning eyes following her movements. "N-no. No, I can't do that." She turned away, meaning to relocate her reading spot and find a new book.
"Eh? Why not?"
"I don't think I could win."
"Hahaha!" A laugh escaped Schrödinger before he slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes widening at the volume of the sound. "You're right," he recovered swiftly, his voice quieter, "there's no way you can win against First Lieutenant Zori-euggh –!"
Amelia turned to look back at the strange noise made by the youth, only to see that he was gone. Bending over, she peered around the books and caught sight of a large brown figure.
"But I was just talking to her," she heard Schrödinger protest.
Deciding she didn't want to be confronted about speaking with the cat-boy – especially if she was not supposed to be in contact with anyone other than the Captain and Doc – Amelia quickly tip-toed away down the aisle of bookcases. Finding the shelf she was looking for, she slid the borrowed book back into its place.
The whining voice had fallen silent; Schrödinger must have left.
Pulling out a smaller book in good condition, suggesting a recent publication date, she headed for her room. It was the one place aside from the bathroom where, to her relief, the Captain had yet to enter. Hopefully it would stay that way.
She had gotten as far as the end of the aisle when the Captain stepped out from behind the corner. So as to avoid colliding with him, Amelia pressed her heels into the floor, only to be reminded that she was wearing socks when her feet slipped on the smooth tile. As she tilted backward the Captain moved forward, his hands closing around her forearm and shoulder to keep her from falling while she scrambled to find her footing.
"S-sorry," Amelia muttered nervously as she regained her balance, gaze habitually rising to the Captain's face. The moment her eyes met his, her look turned into a stare. His unnaturally colored eyes were as intriguing and disconcerting as Schrödinger's, and the white hair spilling out from under his cap was still a striking contrast to his younger appearance. Yet, even as Amelia acknowledged that his face showed no sign of the features suggesting increased age, she found that she could not guess how old he was.
It wasn't until the Captain relinquished his hold on her arms that Amelia realized she had been staring at his face for longer than what was appropriate. Looking away in embarrassment, she fidgeted with the book in her hands. Had he come to reprimand her for talking to Schrödinger? With his face always set in the same stern expression, it was hard to tell.
"What Schrödinger said…?" She began, her knuckles turning white as her hold on the book tightened. "Was he telling the truth?" Eyes flickering to the Captain once more – briefly this time – she saw him nod.
New fears surfacing in her mind, she took a step away from the Captain. "I can't fight," she whispered to herself, looking at the book in her hands.
I'll be killed! I can't win in a real fight against anyone here. It doesn't matter who they want me to fight, I don't want to fight; I'm afraid! I don't want to get hurt! I don't want to die! I don't want to suffer! How can they expect me to do something like that? They know I can't do anything; they must know that. But her choices were limited. Suicide was an option, but the thought of taking her own life was just as terrifying as fighting – and likely impossible with the Captain watching over her.
If you are unwilling to move forward because you're scared, then are you content with being scared and staying where you are now? A small voice in the back of her mind wondered.
Preoccupied with thoughts of the near future, Amelia did not notice the gloved hand reaching out until it lightly, even cautiously, tapped her shoulder. She turned sharply to the hand hovering by her shoulder and then to the Captain. His head tilted to the side in an inquiring manner.
Forcing her fingers to loosen their death-grip on the small book, she realized she was trembling. Quickly moving her hands behind her back to hide them from sight, she dipped her head without answering and hesitantly stepped around the Captain's figure, resuming her walk to the private room. He did not stop her.
Retreating to a corner of her bed, again, one question pricked at her mind: Are you content with being scared and staying where you are now?
Amelia clenched her jaw, feeling tears gather in the corners of her eyes. Pressing her hands against her eyelids to keep the salty drops from falling, she let out a resigned breath. "No."