Chapter 3: Revelations

The next day, I was discharged from the hospital. My best friend Jack picked me up in one of the squad cars and drove me back to my apartment. Upon arrival, I felt a sense of unease take over me. I wasn't sure why, but I felt extremely uncomfortable with the thought of me living in that cozy little abode all by myself. I guess I just wasn't ready to be on my own.

I got out of the squad car, and Jack followed behind me. I approached the building, a small three storey dwelling with about four apartments on each floor. I lived on the first floor, where my dad and I occupied a petite, two bedroom living space painted with olive and chestnut hues, decorated with humble furniture and photos of days gone by.

I pulled out my keys from my jacket pocket, fitted them into the lock, and turned. The door made its audible click, and Jack and I entered, shutting the door behind us.

The apartment still smelled of occupation, specifically of my dad. The scent of the cologne he always used lingered in the air, like the remnants of a fading memory. I felt something sink in my chest as the familiar scent caused images of my dad from the night he died to resurface in my mind.

From my vantage point at the doorway, I could clearly see the quaint kitchenette, with its yellow walls and floral wallpaper trim, the small, wooden table, decorated with a bowl of fruit, and the bookshelf and table set just below the large window to the right, all holding up vases, picture frames, and other mementos from my past.

To the left was a large wall with three doorways branching off of it. One door, in the centre of the wall, led to one of the apartment's bathrooms. The one on the left led to my bedroom, containing a second bathroom, and the door on the right led to my father's room.

Seeing that my apartment looked exactly how it was left on the day my dad and I were last here, I slipped off my muddy boots, put them on the shoe rack by the door, and entered the area with Jack following suit.

Since we'd left the hospital, Jack had been oddly quiet. Something had put him off, but I had zero idea as to what it was. With him being one of my long-time friends, I respected his decision to be quiet and didn't try to interfere. If there was something he wanted me to know, Jack would say it without hesitation.

Standing in the kitchen area, I headed straight for the fridge by direction of my stomach. It had been creating embarrassingly loud noises since I'd left the hospital, and it was beginning to feel painful. I was thankful for Jack's taste in loud music to mask the sound of my stomach's cries.

Reaching into the fridge, I pulled out a bottle of orange juice. I cracked open the lid and took a big swig of the sweet liquid before turning to Jack. He was standing in front of the single window, leaning against the small shelf. In his hand was a picture frame. I couldn't tell which of my photos he was looking at, but whichever one it was, it seemed to have an unpleasant effect on him. The way his jaw was set, with his head dipped to look at the photo, shrouding his eyes in shadow, only made me feel like he wasn't happy with what he was looking at. In order to ease his obvious discomfort, I decided to break the silence between us.

"Jack?" I called, righting my position by the fridge.

He looked up the instant I called out to him. His eyes were wide, but I could tell he'd been sleep deprived from the fresh lines and shadows under his eyes. I hoped that my being in the hospital didn't have too much to do with him losing sleep.

"Do you want something to drink?" I asked, meekly holding up my bottle of orange juice.

Jack set down the picture frame and looked at me, this time, with a smile on his face. It was faint, but it was a smile.

"I'm fine, kitten," he said, using the familiar nickname he had for me.

"Are you sure?" I asked, setting down my bottle of juice on the table and approaching him. I made my way to where he was standing and planted myself in front of him. Like him, I leaned my hip on the small shelf beside us. I looked up into the eyes of the man in front of me, searching for answers. "You haven't had anything since this morning. That was seven hours ago."

I could see definite weariness, one that came with experiencing a lot in a short period of time. I saw traces of sadness, and hints of guilt, but other than that, Jack's eyes were very vacant, as if he was looking at me, but seeing something else.

He smiled, and grabbed my hand in a sign of reassurance. At the contact, I felt my blood rush to my cheeks, and I dipped my head down in embarrassment. I wasn't sure why I felt that way, but I guess nervousness was just part of who I was.

I heard Jack laugh, softly, and as he did so, he tugged me by our intertwined fingers into him. He pulled me close, into an embrace, with his arms, toned and comforting, encircling my small frame, and my arms naturally wrapping around his torso. As I rested my head against his chest, I felt his chin brush the top of my head. Up until this point, I didn't fully realize how much taller Jack was in comparison to me.

"Really," I heard Jack whisper, his voice delicate and faint, "I'm just fine. I think the real question is, are you all right?"

I turned my head and buried it in the shirt of my best friend, enveloping me with his warmth and his soothing fragrance. He smelled of pine and aged leather, a mixture of the time he'd spent in the field on assignments, and the heavy leather jacket he always wore.

"I'm fine too," I told him, "I'm just really glad you're here. I thought I had nobody left… I don't know how I could ever forget about you."

Jack gave me a squeeze after that, one that meant that he felt the same. It was a reassuring, kind gesture that told me that he would always be there for me. As he gingerly began to run his hand down the back of my head, his fingers tangling in between locks of my blond hair, he whispered, "I will always be here for you."

With that, Jack released his hold on me and cupped my face with his hands. He directed my face upwards, so that our eyes met. His eyes, previously clouded with vague emptiness and despair, were now warm and inviting. He pulled my visage close to his, and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead.

He held me like that for a moment after, but even when the moment ended, he was reluctant to release me. He let his hands slide down from my face, down the length of my arms, and to my hands, only to take mine in his once more.

"Are you going to be all right on your own tonight?" he asked. His brow furrowed slightly in concern. "I can stay the night if you want."

I briefly glanced down at our joined hands. "I'll be fine," I said, looking into his eyes. I smiled, hopefully genuinely enough to make him believe that I was telling the truth.

In reality, I wanted him to stay with me until the end of time. I couldn't imagine living in this place without another person occupying it. But, Jack had his own life, and though we were extremely close, I knew I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if he had to hold himself back for my sake.

As if he knew what I was thinking, he lowered his eyelids and gave me a look that said "I know you're just saying that."

"Really," I said, "I'm just fine."

Rolling his eyes in defeat, Jack said, "Alright, you win. But you have my number, so please, Seras, call me if you need anything, okay?"

I nodded in agreement.

After a few more minutes of playfully convincing Jack that I could definitely manage on my own, I ushered him out of the apartment, and I still had a smile on my face for minutes after he'd left. He was a great friend and I was more than thankful for the positive effect he had on me.

I sat alone in the apartment, staring at the tiled floor of the kitchen, for about fifteen minutes after Jack left. I was lost, tired, and lonely. I should've asked him to stay, but I didn't. I did regret my decision, but there was nothing I could do about it now. I'd made my choice, and I stood by it, just as my father taught me to.

Sitting alone, I began to really miss my father's company. The quiet words of encouragement to keep me going after a rough day, the subtle jokes he made to keep me happy, his hugs, his smile, his presence, I missed it all. I missed him, and now, all by my lonesome, I felt that it was finally the most appropriate time to let myself express the pain I'd been holding back inside of me.

I don't know when I started sobbing, and I don't know when I stopped. It seemed like it never ended, and didn't begin at all in the first place. I called for my dad, I cried out for him. It was dream-like, distant, and the kind of crying that made me lightheaded, made breathing so damn hard and caused my head pound from the force of my tears. It was a heavy feeling, one that hurt to let out, but I did feel better once the pain subsided, and the tears dried up.

Sometime between I started crying and when it ended, I just sat, unmoving and still, in the kitchen, as the room slowly grew darker by the setting sun.

After too much time had passed, I could sit idle no longer. I stood up, glancing around the area, looking for what, I don't know. I thrust my hands into my jacket pockets, the fingers of my left hand curling around a small piece of paper.

The business card.

I pulled it out of my pocket, and skimmed over the neatly printed text on it. His name, his phone number, his address, and a website I hadn't noticed before were staring me in the eye, taunting me to do something about it. I blinked, weighing my options mentally. I decided that I needed to know more about Alucard, about his organization, about the man who'd held my father at knife point before his death, and about the reason that my father and I were at that house downtown initially.

I pocketed the card once again, and made my way to my bedroom. It looked so homely, reminding me painfully of the time when my father walked the same halls I did now. Fighting my conflicted emotions, I entered my room.

My bed was in the far left corner, the head board against the wall. On that wall were a calendar, and a window. In front of the window lay a desk, covered in unruly piles of paper and disorganized files, with photos and records leaking from their openings. My laptop rested on a stack of files, threatening to topple over at any second. I felt nostalgia sweep over me in a wave, causing my knees to shake and my throat to constrict. I bit my lip defiantly as I lowered myself into my desk chair, dropped multiple stacks of paper onto the floor, and booted up my laptop.

Within minutes, I had a browser opened up, and was entering in the URL inscribed on the business card.

The website was only an information page on the Hellsing Organization. From working as a police officer, I knew that the Hellsing Organization was a branch of the federal government specializing in gang violence and murder. However, the only cases that involved the serious interference of the Hellsing Organization involved either serious homicidal threats, like serial killers, or the Iscariot gang.

I stared at the webpage for about half an hour, looking for anything that could tell me why the Hellsing Organization had to show up that night. As I glanced between the homepage and the button that read About Us, a thought occurred to me.

The Iscariot gang.

When I was called into work that night, there were rumors that the deaths of the children were caused by the Iscariot. The Iscariot is solely the business of the Hellsing Organization, which would have most likely caused them to send someone to the crime scene; the crime scene that, if the Iscariot had been involved, my team shouldn't have been at in the first place.

I groaned, leaning back into the chair. I rubbed my forehead with my hand as inner self-loathing began to emerge.

Alucard was right. My team wasn't supposed to be there that night, especially if there was suspicion that the Iscariot were involved. But, if that was the case, why did my dad ask us to head out? He's the chief. He of all people should know that by order of the government, specifically the Hellsing Organization, that we're not supposed to get involved with anything Iscariot related.

It didn't make sense. Why would my dad directly disregard protocol? He could have gotten us all fired. I leaned forward in the chair, resting my elbows on my desk and my chin in my palms.

Alucard was right all along. I felt bad for yelling at him, for provoking him. Everything that I'd said or done to him made me feel regret. I wanted to apologize to him, but with the way he'd left the hospital room, contacting him for any reason seemed like a bad idea. I stood up, shutting off my laptop, and dropped Alucard's business card on top of my laptop.

I pulled the thick, cream coloured curtains across my window closed, and dropped down onto my bed. My thoughts became fuzzy and weighed down by drowsiness. It had been a long day, and with so much I'd discovered, I needed to sleep to let it all sink in.

I rolled onto my side, clutching a pillow to my chest. The way I lay made me think back to when Jack hugged me. I shut my eyes, letting the memory of his arms around me, the faint brush of his lips against my forehead, soothe me into slumber.

I lay still, letting the comforting thoughts of the one person I had left to call mine in this world carry me off to sleep.

Author's Note: I know, this was a really short chapter, but more is on the way (though I can't say how soon. It's a secret). Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, favorited or followed this fic, and I look forward to hearing what you thought of this chapter. Also, Jack is not an OC. He's from the anime, introduced during one of the early episodes of the original Hellsing. He was a member of Seras' team that was killed off, just before she first met Alucard. I had to rewatch a few episodes to find his name. Ah, well.

Thanks for reading.

-Shan