"...I hate sand." Integra said, looking distastefully at their surroundings. Deserted, pristine tropical island. Bubbling brook probably full of disease. Palm trees that provided no shade. And lots and lots of white, soft sand that got into her shoes and clothes and hair and never, ever came out.
Eric was bewildered. He'd never had so many things go wrong for him on one vacation before, at least not on this scale. Lost bags and expired paperwork, yes, but the boat sinking, being locked in the hold by angry Catholic priests, forced to make a narrow escape on an inflatable raft that now had a hole in it...
"You still have your briefcase?" he said, surprised. Sure enough, the black leather case was in Integral's hand.
"It doubles as a floatation device. I try for some cell phone service, and if not, I'll try and reach Alucard mentally."
"Right. Should we try and find food, or...?" He really had no idea what to do. He'd read about these things, but had no practical experience in shipwrecks.
"We should boil all the water we drink in a leaf, if possible. See what you can find, but don't go too far. I'll get a fire started."
A few hours later, the two were sitting near a burning fire, watching the sunset. It was beautiful; full of swirling colors like a child's drawing. Their water boiled, a meal of unidentifiable and slightly bitter fruit eaten, they were settling in to sleep. Integral had been unable to use her cell phone, and had elected to wait til later in the night to try and reach Alucard.
"It's easier if we're both awake." She said, seeing his uncomprehending expression. "The distance combined with the ocean makes it hard enough as it is, and I don't want to try and use the seal unless I have to."
"Right. Do you want to me to keep watch, or...?"
"I'll wake you when I start." She smiled in an attempt to be comforting. "Go to sleep for now." Eric nodded at his wife and curled up in a ball. He was eager to stay close to the fire, dressed as he was in only swim trunks and an ugly Hawaiian print shirt.
Integra lay back, staring blankly in to the sky. Trying to establish mental contact with her vampire was a tricky business, and she didn't want to risk getting sucked into one of his dreams or something. Slowly, her eyes rolled backward into her head as she went into parts of her consciousness she rarely explored...and then into darker places...
Master?
The ship crashed. Come and get me. Quickly. And tell Walter he needs to capture Maxwell, who tried to murder me by locking me in the cargo hold. He's on a ship headed to Denmark last I heard. Have the Round Table informed. Hurry.
Sand in your hair?
Oh, you have no idea.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As it happened, the ship Maxwell was on was not, in fact, going to Denmark. It was going to Hawaii, and it was going there because it was delivering certain research subjects to a supposed 'light bulb manufacturing plant.' Actually, the plant in question had long sine gone compact fluorescent, and was the home and lab of Dok.
Dok was alone, since the only company he had was the Major's frequent visits, which were mainly for the purpose of begging Dok to sneak him into Hellsing Manor or other stupidity. Since the Major had reverted to back-up state-a brain in a tank that mercifully had a mute button-Dok was left to his solitude, and his research. In this case, fourth wall breakage and/or fangirl resizing.
He was expecting a very important package, and when it arrived, he brought it with the aid of many machines to his workroom. There, he seized a high-tech hammer and began magnetically extracting the nails. The door fell open, revealing a glass tank covered with a white sheet, and...a priest?
"What are you doing here?" Dok, perhaps from years of Schrödinger messing up his experiments, was highly paranoid about surprises. Maxwell smiled his most charming smile, the one that made him look like a sick, constipated panda, and held up his hands in a gesture of peace.
"I am Father Maxwell of the Catholic Church. I was supposed to be on a boat to Denmark, so if you don't mind, I'll just-"
"You! Iscariot! I suppose you're the right weight..." Dok mused out loud. "Fine. You will be my next specimen. We will see if the serum works correctly, and then I can be discharged of all debt to that pig."
What many didn't know was that a long time ago, the Major had spared Dok from a horrendous fate involving a mob with flaming pitchforks and a well. Thus, the doctor had gone to work for him, and had enjoyed doing great and fascinating research. However, the Major was no longer of any use to him; only a lingering curiosity as to his robotic state and a feeling of debt owed kept him from joining Rip and the others during the original defection. However, he felt he had gone far enough; once Serum 97 was proved marginally successful, he was moving to some cold, deserted place, like Siberia. Then he would have some real research.
So Dok had some of his machinery carry Maxwell into an isolation cell, where he was forcibly injected with a sample and left for observation. Then, Dok returned gleefully to his main project and his other delivery. The white-wrapped glass tank was waiting for him, and he didn't want to deny himself the pleasure of know whether it had worked any longer.
A few weeks ago, Dok had begun his first attempt at fourth wall breakage He judged the best way would be to try and draw subjects from the closest sources: fangirls, who were devoted enough to cross the barriers and reach their universe. Thus he tried to summon a fangirl and resize her to a suitable form, but the amount of expended energy required he have her appear someone else. Specifically, the desert in New Mexico. All week, Dok had waited for this tank to see what he had managed to catch.
Unfortunately, luck was not on his side, for at that instant, a helicopter crash-landed through his roof and directly into his lab. Everything was smashed within minutes, leaving Dok, a splintered tank, and Maxwell in the rubble.
"Who was in charge of refueling this damn thing?" A loud, angry female voice rang out. Both men recognized it, and Maxwell's eyes took on a strange cast.
"Integral...Integral..." He muttered creepily, and Dok mentally noted this as a sign his serum had taken effect. He was exhibiting the hypothesized symptoms- abnormal fixation on any attractive females, twitching, mumbling. Then ,with a flourish, he ripped off the white sheet and stared into the ruined tank.
Unharmed but trapped, Erin Ptah stared back at him, and then spotted an extremely irate Integral Hellsing coming towards her.
"Integra, marry me! Or just hire me! I would gladly spend my life fulfilling your every desire, even if that's only making you tea and fluffing your pillows!"
There was silence, and then Dok frantically began recording her words on a nearby scarp of paper.
"That was creepy. Alucard, we're leaving. Now. Go dig Eric out of the helicopter and find me some alternate transportation, and I don't care if the sun bothers you, and I swear to God if you make one smart comment I'll personally insure you spend the next century in the basement."
"Aren't those pills you take supposed to cure you of PMS?" Alucard asked idly, pulling his hat down even further to protect his face from the hatefully bright sun.
"Oh, shut up!" Integra snapped. Maxwell walked up to her; he seemed surprisingly calm given he had tried to kill her yesterday.
"I love you."
"...pardon?" She asked weakly.
"I love you. You make me angry, but I still love you. We should elope to Denmark."
"...the hell?" Integra asked, shaking her head in exasperation. "I'm never leaving my office again..."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It is a given fact that older sisters plot against their younger brothers, and May, June ,and August were no exception. What's more, Eric's ex-girlfriend (who had dumped him directly after the wedding without listening to his long, rambling explanation of why he had gotten married without telling her) was in on it. You see, Sara still loved Eric, for all that she was absolutely furious with him.
"I just can't believe he fell for this Hellsing person." She said mournfully. "Is it her height? Her hair? Her money?"
"There, there." August soothed. "I'm sure there's a solution to all this. Has anyone tried asking Eric?"
"I was just relieved to know he's alive after I caught that woman cheating on him." May complained. "I was afraid he'd been eaten."
"He won't take my calls." Sara said sadly. "Idiot."
"He's not in town, honey." June said. "Honeymooning."
"Just go over once they're back and explain to his wife how she stole Eric and you want him back. She doesn't look too tough." May declared. She was confident. "I mean, it's not like she really loves him or something. I heard they only met once before the engagement."
'There's such a thing as love at first sight, May. If he loves her, there's nothing to be done. I just wish he would have been man enough to tell me!"
"I know, Sara. Maybe things will work out." June said. "Have some more tea."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When your house has been toilet papered with the kind of toilet paper that is pink, scented, and has a heart design on it, you start to sense that maybe; just maybe, your love life is not going so well.
Such was poor Eric's lot in life. His girlfriend, and probably his sister had vandalized the Hellsing Manor in his absence. How, he was not sure although he suspected it involved winning the sympathy of the maids. Integral's face when she saw the house had made him want to hide under his bed like he had done as a child; he had called and called the offending parties to no avail.
So now he was sitting quietly in his room, looking at a photo in his wallet. It was of Sara at his house, laughing and pulling confetti out of her hair. It was a fond memory, and he wondered whether he should have caved so easily to his father's will. He knew that Lord Feldman would not hesitate to crush Sara's job and the jobs of everyone she knew if Eric didn't comply. But he also felt that maybe he ought to have fought a little harder.
Maybe he should ask Integra...for a divorce. After all, it wasn't as if she'd be heartbroken to see him go, and they'd met the parameters of their orders, hadn't they? They were married. No one said they had to stay married.
"Integra?" Her office was locked.
"Come in." She called back, sounding morose. "You look pleased." She added as he entered and shut the door behind him.
"I had a thought." He began. "We're married."
"So we are." Integra wasn't sure where he was going with this. "Your point?"
"We should get divorced." He said excitedly.
"That...is a good idea. Hm. Now why didn't I think of that? Do you know a discreet divorce lawyer?"
"No, but August knows plenty. She's the one the brides come to right before the wedding to ask if she thinks this is a good idea."
"Good. Go call her and fill out the paperwork. I'm swamped as it is."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"You're getting a what?" Sir Penwood asked stupidly.
"I refuse to allow this." Sir Irons agreed. Integra raised her eyebrows in amusement.
"You refuse? Are you saying I don't have the right to get a divorce? Are you being sexist with me, Sir Irons? Because if you are I will be happy to-"
He got the hint. "Do as you please, Sir Hellsing." The idea of facing Integra's wrath did not appeal to him, particularly for something so trivial.
"Now that that's over with, shall we get down to business?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"How much money did you swindle the fools out of?" Integra pointedly avoided looking at the various eyes that had opened on the wall beside her and continued walking. The meeting was over, the paperwork signed, and her schedule free. She planned on taking advantage of the situation and taking out some time to pursue individual research.
'I didn't swindle anyone, Alucard. I put together a very convincing argument for that budget increase."
"No one was listening to your argument. They were too distracted by your hands. And your gun."
"Little boys are often distracted by shiny things."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dedicated to Erin Ptah, whose birthday was the reason for this chapter. It's late, I know, but this chapter defied all attempts to write it. This is the ninth draft...and I'm not exaggerating.