Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.

Authors Note: Delays, delays, delays...what can I say, sometimes real life gets in the way.

Chapter 12

The workshop chief's office was a spacious and well lit room at the top of the stairs. It had four large windows looking out onto the grasslands surrounding the factory and it was wall to wall in a nice plush carpet. It also stank of stale cigarettes and fat man's sweat. Jane curled her lip in distaste as she surveyed what could be her office.

"Not a chance in hell." she said aloud to the leather covered desk.

Feeling more than hearing the footfalls on the metal stairs, she turned to see the two privates that she had chewed out a little more than a day ago. She had called them up here to do the heavy lifting.

"Alright you two, I want this office emptied, cleaned and painted by the end of next week."

"And the furniture Ma'am?" asked a lanky young man with the name of Murphy sewn onto a patch.

"Sell it and buy something more comfortable. This is going to be the new tea room."

He goggled at her and then the other one, private Simmons asked:

"But what about Mr Wiggins?"

"Mr Wiggins has decided to take early retirement."

Her tone did not invite any further inquiry, but these two weren't the sharpest and so Murphy cleared his throat and asked:

"Who's in charge then?"

She grinned at him in a way that made him feel positively uncomfortable.

"I am Mr Murphy."

She swept past them and made her way along the corridor to the meeting room, where all the department heads were waiting. She was on good terms with all of them, although some of her more creative ideas had caused Mr Clarke, the production budget manager to quietly leave his office if he saw her coming. Silver was expensive and she liked to use a lot of it.

"Good afternoon gentlemen." she said as she took her seat firmly at the head of the table. "Shall we get on with it then?"

She spent the better part of the next hour reassuring them that their jobs were secure and she wasn't going to make any departmental changes. She did however warn them that she would be working on Sir Integra's private commission and as such, her work hours would be flexible and unpredictable.

"Is it safe?" asked Mr Hall, head of the machine shop. "I mean you being alone with that….man."

She had always had a soft spot for the ginger haired giant that she pestered often about her designs. Trust him to worry about her. She grinned at him and said:

"I'll be perfectly fine. There's a whole plethora of delightful things in my workshop that I can use if things get a little out of hand."

"Speaking of which," interrupted Mr Nugent, head of metal reclamation. "Are you sure that you don't want Mr Wiggins' office?"

"Take a moment and think about what I do for fun Frank, and tell me again that I should work in a regular office."

He was silent for a moment and then said sheepishly.

"Quite."

"If that's all gentlemen, I think we leave it there and pick up again at the next monthly review."

The room emptied with a chorus of goodnights and congratulations and other such platitudes and she was soon left alone, sitting at the head of the table. With a groan she let her head fall forward until it rested on the smooth wood.

* That could have gone SO much better...* she thought to herself.

* But I suppose it could have gone worse, at least they didn't all hand in their notices.*

* But they could be composing them now while they drive home.*

* I'm talking to myself.*

"Bugger it!" she shouted out loud as she stood up.

She briskly made her way back to her workshop under the stairs and took a deep breath as she entered her familiar domain. This was where she belonged, not at a desk, not reading reams of paperwork. Here, with her explosives and bullets and now her beloved firearms. This was home.

Grabbing her keys, she resisted the temptation to sit at her draught table and was soon on her way back to her flat to pick up Joshua for dinner.

Dinner was a spicy affair at a local Thai restaurant. While they ate, the two siblings discussed what they were going to do with the flat that Joshua had. Both of them owned their property, an inheritance from their mother.

"It's not like I can commute," said Joshua, slurping up a noodle. "What with shifts and unpredictable calls to action."

"True." his sister nodded. "Why don't you let it out and use the money to rent a place in London."

"Have you seen the London rents?" he snorted. "Might as well just stay in the troop barracks."

"Hmm."

She prodded absently around her dish and then shrugged and said:

"Why don't I let my place out as well and we use the combined income to rent a two bedroom then?"

He looked at her in surprise.

"Your work is here though." he reminded her. "And I can't imagine that you can do it from anywhere else."

"No. But I can stay in the factory staff quarters during the week and come to London for weekends. A lot of the guys do it."

He thought about the proposal as he twirled the last of his noodles around his fork and then popped the whole lot in his mouth. It was definitely a workable solution, but it left only one question.

"So who's going to look for the flat then?" he asked.

"You of course, you know if I chose, we'd end up living in cellar somewhere just so I could build an indoor firing range."

They both burst out laughing and their evening whiled away in pleasant food and conversation, while elsewhere Peter Wiggins met a very sticky end.

Later that night, a car headed back to Hellsing castle, filled with silence and cigar smoke, carrying two woman. One coming to terms with her actions and one reveling in her power.

Seras was practically twitching with all the sensations that her super senses were feeding her. The feel of the velvety leather under her fingers, the sound of the tiny crackle from the cigar as Sir Integra inhaled, the scent of the rolled tobacco leaves, the lingering taste of iron on her tongue and even an unnameable sense that allowed her to feel the steady heartbeat coming from the woman opposite her. For a moment, she locked eyes with her other master and then leaned back in her seat, closed her eyes and let her senses take over all rational thought.

Sir Integra watched as Seras surrendered to the feelings running through her and was satisfied that Alucard's whimsy was no longer a liability. She was very aware that she shared her car with a well fed vampire and was completely comfortable, even to the point of being slightly fond of her.

* What does that say about me? * she wondered to herself. * Since I cannot stand their kind. *

She felt a distant pang of amusement and realised that Alucard had picked up her thoughts. Looking out the window, she realised that they were turning into the castle driveway. The car rolled smoothly to a stop and a doorman opened the door so she could step out. Just before she exited the vehicle, she looked back over her should and said:

"Well done Seras."

She was gone before Seras could say anything, and before she could move, the large frame of her master was filling the door frame and smirking.

"It's such a beautiful night, I thought we'd go for a walk."

And then he too was gone, leaving Seras to scramble out the car in time to see him towering over Integra, speaking in a tone too low even for her to catch. She waited by the gate, confident that he would join her when he was ready.

Alucard's ruby eyes met icy blue and for a long moment he looked into the eyes of the woman who had brought him back to life, as it were. He would never demean her by asking if she was okay, he knew her better that that. Instead he asked a more neutral question:

"Are you satisfied Master?"

"I am."

"And Walter has everything in hand with the disposal?"

"He does."

"Do you need me for anything else this evening?"

"I do not."

He took his hat off and gave a deep bow before her, respect showing in every line of his long frame.

"Good evening my master."

Integra inclined her head and gave a ghost of a smile.

"Good evening Alucard."

She turned and walked through the main door that was being held open for her, conscious of his eyes on her every step, right up until the door closed. She strode to her office and took her seat behind her desk. Resting her elbows on its surface, she interlaced her fingers and rested her chin on them, closed her eyes and said a prayer for the soul of the man she had watched die. Drawing a deep and steady breath, she opened her eyes and reached for the nearest stack of paperwork and got started.

Alucard waited until he felt his master settle and then, satisfied, he strolled over to his fledgling and said to her:

"Come along."

Meanwhile, across town on the outskirts of London.

The garden flat was well away from the main house which is why it probably took so long for someone to notice the fire. By the time the fire department had arrived, the roof had fallen in and the entire structure was engulfed in flame. Any hope of finding survivors had past and there was nothing for them to do other than contain the conflagration and let it burn itself out. The commotion had drawn a small crowd which looked on and commiserated with the owners on how tragic it was for poor Peter. And at the back of the crowd, the flames glinted off of a monocle.