A/N: Yay for updateness. The new quarter started this Monday at my college, so I've been scribbling again. Yes, I seem to write better when I have a million other things to do, especially when I'm ignoring my monotonous Creative Writing (which seems to translate to poetry for this guy) teacher drone on about a couple of poetry readings in a town about an hour north of our school. That and in sex class, which is fantastic and yes, attended while fully clothed.

Before I forget, I'd like to say that I don't own Gundam Wing, Hellsing, or Dracula. I'd like to, but I don't. So read, enjoy, and leave a nice review on your way out the door or you'll make the kitsune sad. Also, I've been told to add "That if you make the Kitsune sad... Said girlfriend will come hunt you down." And that is a direct quote from the lovely girlfriend, unaltered in any way, shape or form. I feel loved. (There are no threats intended from the author.)

"Violet Turned Red"

Chapter Six

Grief

Duo had snitched about five pillows from various rooms to stuff his new coffin with, the biggest being a deep red one from one of the other coffin-bearing rooms. Somehow, the dark and gothic motif just didn't fit with his sunny sire, so it must have been this Alucard's.

He had a lot to think about after getting an official briefing. A former Gundam pilot, he was no stranger to killing. With most of Hellsing's targets already in some form of dead, there would be little pull on his conscience.

"A mortal shinigami to kill mortal men; an immortal to kill immortals," he murmured. "Figures."

"Shinigami, Mr. Maxwell?"

Duo looked up, as though just noticing the older man that he'd been tracking since his arrival in the dungeon level. "You heard me."

"It's a curious moniker to live under," Walter said, a ghost of a smirk on his face. "How did you happen to come by it?"

A lazy smile spread over Duo's face. "I earned it, during the war."

"If you don't mind me saying, Mr. Maxwell, you seem rather young to have fought in the war. You would have been about fifteen, sixteen years old when the war ended?"

"Sounds like the correct ballpark," Duo said, relaxing back into the pillows. "But since when has age really mattered in war?"

Walter's returning smirk was unreadable. "I believe I see what you mean, Mr. Maxwell."

-

Wufei sat alone in the kitchen, two glasses of wine on the table, the bottle half empty. The glass on the far side of the table remained untouched from the point when he'd poured it.

The Preventer had done very little since Heero had left, switching off the news on his way out the door. He knew that the following morning was the latest Heero would be able to hold Quatre back from coming to comfort his friend. While Wufei didn't really want any comfort beyond that of his lover's own arms, he did appreciate the blonde's care.

"Duo," he whispered, staring blankly at the empty chair across the table from him. "Where have you gone?"

That was where Quatre and Trowa found him in the morning, slumped over in his chair asleep with his lax fingers just touching the bottom edge of his glass. Quietly, the pair corked and put away the remaining wine, Trowa lifting their fifth pilot and carrying him to bed while Quatre poured the full cup down the drain and washed both glasses.

"He stopped himself before doing any harm," Trowa said quietly, referring to the amount of wine left in the bottle.

"He knows Duo would be sad if he let himself fall to ruin," Quatre said, clinging to his husband. They'd had to drive past all of the flags at half mast on their drive to the apartment. "Just like he wouldn't- he wouldn't want us to cry."

Trowa just held the other man as they stood in the silent living room, tears falling from blue eyes to soak into his shirt. No one could have predicted that their laughing shinigami would be the first one to go, especially so soon after surviving the war and the streets.

Quatre wiped his eyes as he pulled away. "Sally said she'd come over this afternoon to make sure he eats, and I think Heero's planning on spending the night whether or not he's actually welcome. Under any other circumstances, I think it would have been fun to watch those two butt heads. They're both so stubborn. After spending so much time with Duo, you'd have to be."

"It'll do them good now," Trowa said, looking down at him. "Wufei will pull through this. We all will. We'll make Duo proud."

"We will," Quatre said, nodding as a small smile tried to make itself appear on his pale face. His eyes strayed past Trowa to a pair of violet eyes and a wicked smile staring at them from a wooden frame and his face crumpled. "I just can't believe that he's dead."

-

Duo had awoken early in the evening. A fresh set of clothes waited on the table next to his coffin, much like the uniform he'd fallen asleep in. Some thoughtful person had also left a brush with them. Picking up, he smiled to see several long reddish hairs stuck in the bristles.

Filled with pillows or no, it felt strange to wake up in a coffin. But still, it was better than waking up in a bed without so much as Wufei's scent to welcome him back to the waking world, knowing that he'd spend the rest of eternity that way. Better for Wufei to think him gone and at peace so he would move on with life than to know of his damnation. He could not let Wufei see him, ever. No matter how much it pained him to sleep and wake alone.

Shaking his head to clear out the thoughts from his mind, Duo hopped out of the coffin, leaning backwards and making his back pop. Purposely not thinking about how it'd always creeped Wufei out, he knelt down to grab the clothes and brush before heading out of the room toward where he remembered there was a shower.

Twenty minutes later, he was clean and feeling at least somewhat solid, since alive was really a term that didn't seem to fit with him anymore.

Though he could hear footsteps and faint life from the house above, he seemed to be the only one awake and moving down in the dungeon levels. Alone, he felt free to leave his hair down to dry faster, running the brush through it absentmindedly.

A long-fingered hand wrapped around his throat just as he passed the stairs to the house proper. Instinctually gasping for air, Duo struggled against the grip that was lifting him from the ground. He could distinctly hear the cracking pop as his windpipe was crushed.

"Lowlife vampire, you've intruded into my master's home," a low voice growled from behind him. "Tell me why, and I may kill you quickly."