Thank you to my reviewers: BooyakashaBabe, KuroNeko513, AquariusOtter, NightlyRowenTree, DarknessMakesMeSmile, misaki, Zerolife117, AwesomeJellyBean, Guntz, Trich, and Requiem-sama! I love to hear your input on this story and I'm very grateful to you all for taking the time to review! Thank you to those who added this fic to their alert/favorite list as well!
Believe it or not, I've been working on this chapter for a month and a half (which means I only slacked off in September). Hope it's worth the wait!
KuroNeko513: Seeing your reviews makes me so happy! ^_^ I thought I'd bring up Amelia's remembrance of Hellsing in the previous chapter because I didn't want anyone to think she had completely forgotten them. I also wanted her to have some hope, because otherwise it would be so depressing to write about her thoughts on her predicament. And I agree: time with the Captain is always well spent.
DarknessMakesMeSmile: Ah, your review made me laugh! XD
misaki: ¡Estoy feliz que te gustan los capítulos! Yo sé que quieres saber muchas cosas sobre el futuro… Pero tú tendrás que paciente. -Lo siento para mi español; no está mi idioma primero.
Guntz: I'm reading Drifters too! I like it, but it does drive me crazy how sporadic updates are. Hopefully I'm portraying all the characters accurately and keeping the story interesting!
Please read, review, and enjoy! : )
I do not own Hellsing.
Hoping to delay what was to come, Amelia took her time walking to the doctor, keeping her eyes trained on the floor. When an impatient huff came from the spectacled man, the Captain nudged her to walk faster.
Reaching the open door all too soon, Amelia eyed the hallway beyond with growing fear. Old light fixtures were set up equidistant along the ceiling, glowing weakly from frequent use. At the end of the hall was an unmarked door, the light above it flickering rapidly in need of repair. The floor was not covered in blood as she thought it would be, and there were no echoing screams or sounds of torture.
"After you, Miss Harker."
Seconds ticked by, but Amelia did not move.
Doc muttered something under his breath and the Captain nodded, heading for the lab's entrance.
"Come along now." Doc's bony fingers wrapped around Amelia's shoulder and pushed forward, forcing her to walk ahead of him down the hall.
While there was nothing but undecorated wall to their left, thick bars ran from the floor to the ceiling on the right, forming cages of varying size. Each enclosed area was occupied by one person, save for the largest cell, which held seven.
Poorly illuminated in the light, most of the figures sat against the far wall, limbs curled defensively around their emaciated frames. Two people were missing all but a single limb; one man had a mutilated lower jaw, others had stitches, and one person's condition was so horrible, Amelia was not sure if it was a man or woman, or even alive. Polluting the air was the scent of rot, strong enough to taste and make the eyes water.
As if they were ghosts, Amelia and the doctor passed the cages without notice from the imprisoned.
"What is this?" Even though she already had an idea, the question slipped out, naturally but unintentionally.
"Heh." Noise like a cut-off laugh came from within the cage beside her, as if the occupant were attempting to respond. She looked towards the speaker and cringed at the figure lying on his back in the center of the cell, his eyes wide as he stared at something invisible on the ceiling. Without turning his head, his eyes darted in her direction, holding her gaze for only an instant before returning to stare at the same spot on the ceiling.
"Being a scientist means accepting failure." Doc's words ushered her attention away from the figure sprawled on the floor. "Although failure isn't always a bad thing; not if you're learning in the process."
"Heh." The noise came again, softer but no less disturbing, and Amelia felt the hair on her neck stand on end. She looked over her shoulder, but the man had not moved.
"Ignore them," advised the doctor. He hadn't looked at the cages once.
The door at the end of the hall was just that: a door with knobs and hinges – one of the few she had seen so far without machinery or a security prompt – and required a small shove to open.
On the other side was a well lit room, its ceramic floor scuffed and stained from time, with windowless, dark painted walls. Spiders had taken up residence around the surveillance cameras in each corner of the ceiling. Sitting next to a large desk littered with books and papers in the center of the room was an operation bed with soiled sheets, straps, and buckles hanging off its frame. Drains in the floor ran beneath chains and cuffs dangling from hooks on the back wall. On the right side of the room were two tables crowded with specimen jars, beakers, and microscopes. A large, steel vault door was set in the wall on the left, the words 'No. Anfang' painted sloppily in black letters above its silver frame.
Doc released her shoulder and moved around his desk, pulling a stool out from behind it. "Sit." He patted the seat and went in search of something from one of the tables.
It was mildly assuring that he hadn't directed her towards the bed, but her eyes remained glued to it as she moved across the room.
"I've seen from your medical records that you are about due for a tetanus vaccination. I'm sure you can tell that this base is rather old, and despite your healing abilities, the fever you developed worries me that you might still be susceptible to infection and disease." Doc came back with a syringe in hand.
Not another one… Even if it's beneficial… Pushing her sleeve up, Amelia looked away and waited for the doctor to finish, her heart rate quickening. She had come to accept that she would never get over her fear of needles.
Setting the syringe on the desk, Doc crossed his arms and waited.
The sound of wood scratching wood interrupted the silence, and the Captain stepped into the room, making sure the door was firmly wedged back into its ill-fit frame before joining Doc. He gave a meaningful nod when the doctor lifted an inquisitive brow, and then both men turned to Amelia.
She squeezed her hands together nervously under their scrutiny. Why are they just looking at me? She blinked, and dark spots danced across her vision. What? A few more rapid blinks proved ineffective at dispersing them, and she raised a hand to rub her eyes, only to feel her balance shift to the side.
"There we go." Doc caught her before she swayed too far and hit the desk. "Over there."
That wasn't tetanus. Amelia fought the effects of the medicine for a few more seconds, but in the end, all she could do was watch her eyelids lower as she lost consciousness.
Why did I go to sleep…? Amelia opened her eyes a crack, but finding everything blurry, she shut them again. I don't remember… Should I go back to sleep? At the thought, she felt something press against her lower back.
She opened her eyes again. This time the shapes in front of her were more distinct, the pale blobs of color her arms and shirt. She twitched and the pressure on her back left, though a tingling sensation lingered at the spot of contact.
"Are you awake?" The words were audible, but it took her a moment to comprehend them.
Leave me alone.
"I think she's awake; she's mumbling something." The voice was soft, carrying a hint of surprise.
Doc… Her thoughts clearing, she lifted her head, finding herself sitting hunched over uncomfortably and facing a wall. He gave me something. I was sitting on the stool, and then… I fell asleep? Her back was starting prickle, but her attention went to her arms when she tried moving them, only to find she could not do so.
Straps of thick leather bound her forearms to one another, and a metal shackle encircled each wrist, a length of chain running between her and the wall. The rusty links rattled when she tested them, but held.
Trying to get in a more comfortable position, she straightened her back, feeling a tug around her shoulders as her shirt bunched awkwardly in the front. She looked down and went rigid. Both her t-shirt and tank top had been pulled over her head, though her arms remained in the sleeves, keeping her chest covered while leaving her stomach and back exposed. Twisting around on the stool, she looked for the doctor, wanting an explanation.
"I wouldn't advise moving around too much, Miss Harker. You're going to hurt yourself."
The warning was too late, and Amelia gasped as the tingling sensation in her back suddenly burned like fire. "W-what are you doing?" She hissed, clenching her sweaty palms together and attempting to spin around on the stool.
"Don't twist like that," Doc raised his voice. "I'm not finished. You're not finished either, for that matter."
Trembling, Amelia peeked over her shoulder. Still unable to see her back, she moved her arms to the right with a wince, eyes scanning over her left side in hopes of finding a better angle of observation. The back waistline of her pants was red. Around the feet of the stool was a small pool of crimson liquid, creeping slowly into a nearby drain.
"W-w-what are you d-doing?" She repeat her original question.
"Turn around, Miss Harker, you're still healing."
Ignoring the command, Amelia turned farther until she could see the doctor, analyzing his gore-stained figure. There was a syringe in one of his red hands.
When he took a step towards her, she leaned forward, shuffling off the stool. However, her legs weren't ready to support her weight, and she toppled over, her right shoulder hitting the wall. Pressing against the rough surface, she managed keep herself from sliding down the wall, but the pain in her back worsened. She let out a sob and bit her lip. It felt as though the skin was stretching, tearing at the slightest of movements.
"What did you do?!" Her right leg buckled and she slid partway down the wall, the tension in the chains suspending her by the arms, her knees a hairsbreadth from the floor.
The doctor raised his empty hand, the palm-open gesture an attempt to calm her. "The sedative wore off. I gave you a larger dose to be–,"
"Stop it!" She cried, tears flowing freely down her reddening cheeks while she scrambled awkwardly to get back on her feet.
"Miss Harker, please." He sounded tired, like she was the one being unreasonable. "We're almost done for today. This dose should keep you under until –,"
"No!" Amelia cut him off again, huddling against the wall as his shadow loomed over her. Doc leaned in, the blood on his hand seeping into the shirt fabric as he took hold of her left arm.
He cast a glance over his shoulder. "Come hold her. I suspect she'll try to pull away when I administer this."
The Captain, who had been blending in with the wall beside the vault door, stepped forward.
A sense of urgency motivated Amelia as she squirmed in the doctor's grip, fear overcoming pain as she tugged harder against the bonds, the metal digging into the back of her hands and wrists.
"You're going to break something," Doc said angrily, his patience wearing thin, and his grip on her arm tightened.
Sucking in a sharp breath, Amelia tensed her muscles and kicked out at him. Her foot collided with his shin, and he stumbled back a couple of steps, losing hold of her arm for a moment. But it wasn't going to be that easy to escape.
A blur of movement came at her from across the room.
She panicked.
With no predetermined plan, she kicked again, this time hitting the stool. The seat went flying across the room in the Captain's direction, but she paid it no thought, all focus on her chained limbs. With a scream, she closed her eyes and balled her hands into fists, jerking away from the wall with her body.
Doc's shout was drowned out by her exclamation, but she felt something give and her movement was no longer restricted. She opened her eyes as her arms continued moving from the momentum. She hadn't actually expected to break free, but now that she had, she realized her balance was thrown too far forward.
The fight's going to end. Once she hit the floor, she wouldn't have the strength to get back up and run. Maybe it is a short-lived struggle, but I'm going to make the most of it.
Amelia clenched her jaw, determined to take the doctor down with her. He deserved a concussion, at least.
Her target was about two steps away, the hand with which he had started reaching for her retracting when he saw her expression and guessed her intent.
Amelia brought her arms back and swung as she fell towards Doc, wishing her strike could bring upon him all the negative emotions plaguing her.
And then she hit a wall. Not literally, but she collided with something sooner than expected, and that something – someone – might as well have been as sturdy as a wall. A hand came up under one of her arms, supporting her weight while also preventing her from escaping.
Recovering from the impact, Amelia leaned back, recognizing the brown coat.
Of course. She pursed her lips, a couple more frustrated tears slipping out.
Doc staggered backwards from the Captain's push, managing to catch himself on a table but nearly dropping the syringe in the process. Wiping a sleeve across his forehead, he let out a sigh of relief.
No one spoke.
Amelia sniffed and moved to wipe the tears from her face, but the Captain's other hand closed around her wrists. She tried to remove her arms from his side, and blood splashed across the back of her hands, sprinkling the floor between them.
Amelia ceased struggling and instead, watched as the Captain slowly pushed her arms away. A black, solid substance that clung to her curled fingers slid smoothly out of his abdomen as he moved her arms back.
Doc cautiously approached them, syringe in hand and ready to be administered until he saw the tip of the shadowy protrusion leave the Captain's bleeding side. Its length was about that of Amelia's forearm, the end narrowed to a knife-sharp point.
"Mein Gott." Doc ran back to his desk, the injection forgotten, and started shuffling through stacks of paper.
Amelia remained staring at the bloody abnormality, afraid it might do her harm if she averted her attention. She forced herself to breathe slowly, trying to steady her pounding heart, and unexpectedly, the black substance rippled, its dagger shaped form melting. Quick as lighting, the substance flowed over her hands in rivulets, snaking around the Captain's fingers and under the shackles and leather.
Amelia let out a startled yelp, alerting the doctor, who came back having substituted the syringe for several sheets of paper. "What happened?"
The Captain let go of Amelia's wrist to point at the shackles and leather around her forearms.
"Take them off. Hurry! Don't worry about breaking them, I have more." Doc grunted in annoyance as he looked down at the bloody prints he was leaving on the papers in his hands and dropped them on the floor. Wiping his hands on his coat, he set off for another table.
The Captain released Amelia's arm, and she fell; her feet might have been on the floor, but it wasn't until the Captain was no longer supporting her that she realized he was the only reason she had remained upright. Fortunately, he caught her again before she hit the ground, lowering her into a sitting position.
Crouching in front of her, he pulled her arms closer, and her shirts slid down her arms. With a small gasp, she jerked her arms back to press them against her chest and abdomen, stopping the layers from dipping too far. Her tear-stained cheeks darkened a little more, and she looked away from the man across from her.
Naturally, he said nothing, but she could feel his eyes on her. He leaned a little closer, and her head swiveled sharply back at him, meeting his gaze. He abruptly stopped moving forward, though his eyes remained locked with hers. His hands brushed the skin around her elbows, unbearably close to her breasts, and she stiffened.
A second later, the first leather strap was tossed aside, ripped in half like it was paper. Then he was moving on to the next, removing it just as easily.
When the leather bindings had been discarded, he took one of the shackles around her wrist and proceeded to break it too, using only a little more force than he had needed to rip the leather.
Amelia blinked, suddenly unsure as to why she was taking part in a staring contest with the red-eyed man. She looked down at her arms as the last shackle was removed, flinching slightly as the cuff cracked in the Captain's hands and imagining what he could do to bone with such strength.
"Ah!" Doc gave a dismayed cry as he knelt down beside her.
Having almost forgotten him, Amelia started, one hand tugging her shirts up to cover her chest. Seconds later she remembered the blood on her hands and swallowed heavily, letting go of the fabric.
"Wrists," the doctor beckoned, and she reluctantly offered them.
"All this blood," he commented with a frown, "it's not yours is it?" She shook her head.
"I want to take a quick look at your side after this." Doc glanced at the Captain as he wiped at Amelia's right hand with his coat sleeve. There were red marks along her forearms where the leather had been, and the skin around her wrists glistened red from the cuts made by the shackles. The black substance was nowhere to be seen.
Doc pulled out a scalpel from his lab coat, deftly slicing one of the cuts on her wrist open wider – though he avoided severing any major veins. Ignoring her small cry of protest, he put down the surgical tool and selected an empty test tube from a small rack he had brought with him. Squeezing her hand to get the blood flowing, he situated the test tube to collect the trickle, staring intently at the wound.
After two of the tubes were filled and stoppered, he picked up the scalpel again, prodding with the blunt end around several of the cuts on her right hand.
A couple of minutes passed and the blood began to clot. Shaking his head in disappointment, he gave up on whatever he had been hoping to observe.
To the Captain: "Let me see where she stabbed you."
The Captain nodded and stood, taking a step back to create some space between them before unbuttoning his coat.
"Sit here for a minute, Miss Harker."
As if I have the energy to stand, Amelia thought glumly.
She turned away from Doc to watch the Captain undo the rest of his coat, a sense of unease twisting in her gut while she discretely wiped the blood still coating her left hand on her pants. It was disturbing enough to see so much of her own blood; she didn't want someone else's blood on her hands.
The Captain pulled the left side of his coat away from his torso, and Amelia blushed in spite of herself, not expecting to see that he wore no shirt beneath. That discovery aside, she noticed the same thing he had shown her after getting shot in the forest: no gore, no scarring; just skin, and a lot of muscle.
That explains why it felt like I tackled a wall.
Pulling a different scalpel out of his pocket, Doc muttered something to which the Captain gave a curt nod. Then the doctor shifted, blocking Amelia's view – doing her a favor, since she really did not want to see him use the scalpel.
He's letting Doc cut open his side? Just like that? She snuck a glance at the Captain's face, wondering if she would see any emotion there now that the coat collar was no longer concealing half of it. His expression did not appear any different.
Then he tilted his head, his attention suddenly on her.
I look like I'm staring. Ducking her head guiltily, she ran her fingers through her hair. Hand moving halfway across her scalp, she froze, pat her head, paused, and scratched another spot. Her fingers pulled at a few strands in disbelief, trying to measure their length. He cut my hair. Whereas it should have run past her shoulders, now it didn't even reach the nape of her neck. He cut my hair so that… So it wouldn't get in the way while he…ruined…my back? My back…
How had she managed to endure the pain these past few minutes? Her hand dropped from her head and carefully reached for her back, ultimately stopping short of touching the skin. What would she feel? Would the flesh be mangled, burned? If she looked in a mirror, would she see only wet muscles and blood?
"All right."
Amelia looked up, resting her hands in her lap. The Captain was buttoning his coat and Doc was coming towards her with a stool – the stool she had been sitting on earlier.
"I think we're making some real progress today, don't you, Miss Harker?" His lips curved into an amused smile, but his good mood did nothing to improve hers. Placing the stool beside her, he paused with a thoughtful expression, and then crouched down, situating himself directly behind her.
"Does your back hurt?"
No. The answer surprised her. At the moment, her back felt numb; but if that response wasn't what Doc wanted, or expected to hear, would he continue where he left off, prior to her awakening? She kept her mouth shut.
"Well, then." He reached forward to poke a spot near her right shoulder blade, and she twitched, feeling pain return to the area. "I see." Grabbing hold of her upper arm and grunting from the effort, he helped her up onto the stool. Once he was satisfied that she would not fall off the seat, he returned to his desk to collect a clipboard and pen.
"You've been healing nicely," he remarked, glancing over the compiled information before reassessing her back. "The blood is still coagulating in a couple of places, but everything else has scabbed over." He went silent for a minute as he concentrated on making notes.
The pen's scratching ceased. "As a matter of fact," his fingers traced a couple of lines down her back, "these scars have almost faded completely. What time is it?" A pause followed the question as he searched the room for his answer. "To have reached this point so soon, the healing process must have doubled since… I need to examine those samples."
He walked brusquely back to his desk, putting down the clipboard.
For a few seconds he stood still, drumming the fingers of one hand against the desk's cluttered surface, then: "I think we have reached a good stopping point. You should rest now, Miss Harker, while you can. Tomorrow will be another early start."
He picked the test tube rack and papers off the floor and stowed the used scalpels in a pocket. "If you could take her back, Captain, I would very much appreciate it. And," he added pointedly to Amelia, waving the papers in his hand at her, "after eating, I recommend you take a bath; you're filthy."