Chapter Four: A Pain Like No Other

A sharp trilling noise woke me up. It tore me from the safe, fuzzy dreamland in my head in less than an instant. Groggily, I blinked my eyes, slowly lifting myself off my bed. As I got my bearings in my darkened bedroom, I realized that the ringing I heard was the sound of the telephone in the kitchen.

I sluggishly walked into the kitchen, absently rubbing my eyes to rid them of the lingering tiredness. I grabbed the old, cordless telephone out of its cradle and pressed the 'talk' button.

"Hello?" I said, stifling a yawn.

"Seras?" said the voice. My eyes widened as I recognized the voice on the other end of the line. It was Jim Marshall, the head officer of our branch. He ran all of the other departments of our police station, and made sure we were all doing our jobs. He was the only one of us who communicated directly with the Hellsing Organization.

"Mr. Marshall?" I said, "Is everything all right?"

There was a lengthy pause. I took that as a bad sign.

"Sir?" I said, hoping for a response.

"Seras, this isn't something I can tell you over the phone," he said. His voice was hoarse, rough, and dry, like he'd been speaking for a long time prior to this call. He sounded strained, damaged, and utterly devastated. Something must have happened, something extremely wrong. "I'd like you to head down to the station as soon as you can, kiddo. I'll explain everything then."

I gulped as we hung up the phone at the same time. I slumped against the wall for a moment, panting, for reasons unknown. I was sweating, and my bangs stuck to my forehead. I prayed that whatever had happened was nowhere near as bad Mr. Marshall had made it seem. Maybe it was another homicide, one like the one I was at only four days ago.

Shaking, I pulled myself off the wall and headed back to my room to get cleaned up, dreading the news that would await me at the station.

It took me half an hour to reach the station. I sat in the car for a minute, my breathing laboured. I didn't know what would be waiting for me at the station; all I knew was that it wasn't good. I swallowed my fear down in a pill of hardened saliva, and made my way towards the squat, stone building that was the station.

When I entered the foyer, I saw people, other officers from other departments milling about in clusters, murmuring to each other. I blinked, and I was transported back to the scene of my father's death, where my own team stood dispersed and lost like the patrons of the station did now. I blinked again and I was brought back to the cream coloured room with grey furniture and fake potted plants. The stench of adrenaline and loss lingered throughout the room like tangled ribbons of police tape.

I strode forward, hopefully in a purposeful manner, towards the head officer's office on the opposite side of the room. I knocked on the door, and shifted my weight from one foot to another, waiting for a response. Instead of hearing a voice emit from behind the door, I heard it come from right behind me.

"Seras."

I spun around and was greeted by the barely composed face of the head officer. Officer Marshall's face was glistening with a thin layer of sweat, his eyes constantly shifting from left to right. Something had shaken him up to the point of what looked like utter paranoia. This didn't comfort me in the slightest.

"Head officer," I said, "What's going on?"

He put his hands on his hips, and bowed his head, revealing a head of thinning hair plastered to his scalp, and dark stains under his arms.

He paused. "It was the Iscariot. That is all we know," he said.

I stared at him, confused. Like the tide, I felt a wave of fear start to rise in my veins.

"Just follow me," he said, turning away from me, and down the hallway to my left, towards my branch of the station.

Towards the morgue.

The steel door to the morgue creaked open as the head officer reached inside to flick on the light. The sound it made reminded me of what rust would look like, if it were there. The dusty, usually unused room was brought to light, and the head officer led me into the room.

The formerly empty space, with walls lined with metal drawers large enough for a human body, was now almost entirely occupied. I felt my breath hitch in my throat as my eyes took in the sight before me.

There were bodies. Everywhere. Tons of the drawers in the room had been pulled out. Humanoid shapes laid on them, each draped in a clean, white sheet. There were so many bodies.

This wasn't an ordinary finding of an old, mass grave. Those bodies were far too undecomposed to have been buried before. The bodies belonged to a large amount of people who died very recently to the present date. This wasn't a coincidental finding. This was a massacre.

I slowly turned around, glancing over the room, blinking back tears. I knew one of these unmarked sheets hid the former chief of my division, my father. The identities of the remaining bodies remained unknown to me, and I wasn't exactly eager to find out who they belonged to.

I turned to face the head officer, who was leaning over one of the bodies with a remorseful, deadened look.

"What happened here?" I asked, my voice betraying my attempt at holding myself together. So many people, at least fifteen, had died in a terribly short period of time. Thinking of the way I felt when my father was taken from me, and thinking of the way that these peoples' families must be feeling, left me shaking with sadness and remembrance. I stole a quick glance at the head officer as the memory of my father's laugh once again reverberated in my head.

"It was the Iscariot," said Marshall, "That's really all we know so far."

I coughed quickly to cover up a would-be sob, and forced myself to think about other things in order to stay composed.

"Seras," the head officer said, taking hold of the corner of the crisp sheet obscuring the body in front of him, "I'm so sorry, but we just weren't quick enough. He was already dead when we found him. It happened last night, in his home. One bullet and he was out. We have people looking for the culprit as we speak." He paused, shaking his head, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to relieve you of your duties, Seras Victoria," he said.

I blinked, my breath catching in my throat in a silent gasp. I didn't get a chance to question the head officer about his decision, though.

With that, the head officer pulled back the pallid sheet, and revealed the body underneath.

It was Jack.

I didn't pay attention to the head officer any more after that.

I felt like something, a spiny beast, had taken hold of my throat, its pointed talons digging into my trachea, constricting my every breath. I couldn't inhale, I couldn't exhale; I could only produce weak, choking noises. My face grew both hot and cold and I could feel the utter mournfulness spilling from my eyes and over my cheeks.

I took a sharp breath, and forced myself to take a step forward. I felt desensitized and exposed, and I was vibrating with minute convulsions. I kept hearing Jack's voice, his words, resonating in my mind, along with a periodic, pulsating sound. Guilt for not letting Jack stay the night with me clawed another sob from my body, a wave of fresh tears following in their wake.

"I'm so sorry," I cried, my voice garbled by the mixture of tears and excess saliva pooling at my lips, "I'm so sorry, Jack."

He looked so pale, so wrong, lying there, unmoving, dead.

"Jack," I wheezed as I stood over his corpse.

I felt my hands move and rest on top of his chest, my fingers curling into fists around the white sheet. "Come back," I breathed, "Come back!"

I screamed and cried and did everything my father had told me not to do in public. I was truly all alone now. No mother, no father, no Jack, and by the looks of the other bodies in the room, no police squad either. There was nobody left for me in this world. There was nobody worth living for anymore.

The room around me grew fuzzy, and a buzzing noise began to sound in my head. My throat was raw, my face soaked, and my head was light and airy. I felt my grip on the sheet covering Jack's lower half slacken, and the ferocity of my cries died down. I was still crying, but I was stoically calm enough to speak.

I cleared my throat of the phlegm my painful weeping had caused. "Thank you," I said, feeling my knees quake, "Thank you for everything, Jack."

The sorrow came back in a rough jolt of shivers, and the howls I thought had left me returned once more. Between my wails, I managed to moan out, "I love you, Jack."

My legs were shaking far too violently to support my body any further. My hands fell from on top of Jack's chest to my sides, and my knees finally gave way.

I was only half aware that my body didn't slam into the floor.

I felt something strong, something so, so warm catch me from under my arms before I could make contact with the tiles beneath me. A rough, calloused hand took mine, and pulled me up to a standing position. The hand did not let go of mine. I felt another place itself on my hip as it tugged me away from Jack, away from the pain. I was too stunned to cry anymore, and too shell-shocked to utter a sound.

I looked down at the hand holding mine. Worn and thoroughly used, the hand had a gentle but firm grip on me, the way my father would've held my hand.

My eyes trailed upwards, and I noticed the startling red colour of the sleeve that encased the arm attached to the hand.

Alucard.

I slowly turned around and faced the hulking figure of the Hellsing representative. He wasn't wearing his hat, but his eyes were just as shadowed as they were when he had them on. His hair hung in thick, black locks, falling over his seemingly placid exterior. The slightly pinched expression he wore implied inner unrest, and I felt a part of me ache a little for the torment that this man was facing.

I was suddenly very aware of the fact that his hand was still grasping mine, and his other one was still resting on my hip. He was holding me like two ballroom dancers would hold each other.

My eyes travelled upwards from a button on his shirt to poisonous, red eyes, and then slowly back down. I could see his lips moving, forming words, but the sound wasn't making it to my ears. The deafening pound of my heart, and a shrill ringing noise was consuming everything there was for me to hear. Panic was beginning to rise within me again, until I finally heard him speak.

"Kid."

One word, his "nickname" for me, and I snapped my gaze back to his eyes.

"You don't need this," he said, and with that simple statement, he towed me by the hand towards him. "You don't need this anymore."

My head leaned against his chest, my eyes widened with shock for a different reason. He released my hand, and wrapped both of his arms around me. I was overwhelmed by the scent of rosewood and cheap cologne. His arms were light, but sturdy. His head rested just above my own, just like Jack's did whenever he hugged me.

This man had killed my father, but had protected so many more people. He'd saved me. He'd saved Jack. My dad would never have been angry with him, so why should I even consider doing so?

Alucard was acting as a pillar, a static figure, one I desperately needed to hold me up when my own body couldn't do so. My father would have scolded me for being so outright rude to this man.

I felt my arms rise, slowly, cautiously, moving to embrace Alucard. I balled my hands into fists around the velvety material of his coat, burying my tear-stained face in his chest. One of Alucard's arms shifted upwards, the fingers of his hand tangling in my hair. It felt like my father's embrace. It felt like the last time I saw Jack alive.

I didn't want to be alone. I couldn't survive all alone.

As if reading my mind, Alucard said, "You don't need to do this alone anymore."

I turned my head to the side, taking in a deep breath of air. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"Come with me," he said. "There's nothing here for you anymore. This was the Iscariot's fault, on both counts, and Hellsing knows more about the Iscariot than any other organization. I can help you get the answers you want, and let you get the revenge you want."

Revenge.

The thought of such a thing never crossed my mind. But, Alucard was right. I wanted the perpetrator to understand what it felt like to have nothing left, nobody left that cared about them. As the thought passed through my head, I realized that that wasn't true. The man holding me in his arms clearly cared about, or wanted to care about, me. I still had something left, but the person who took Jack, who really took my father, did not deserve anything. The killer deserved to feel what I felt, and my father, Jack, and I at least deserved some answers.

"How?" I said.

"Come with me. I can get you into Hellsing. We can solve this, end this, together," he said, his voice muffled by my hair.

My father would want me to go with Alucard, find out the truth, and save more lives. Jack would tell me off for not taking part in a good adventure.

In unison, we slowly pulled away from each other. He held me by the waist as my arms rested against his chest, my hands coiled into loose fists. Unable to find the words, I simply nodded in consent.

A faint look of relief crossed Alucard's face. He released me completely, and then grabbed my hand again. Without another word, he tugged me out of the morgue, only stopping to conceal Jack's face once more.

Alucard pulled me, dazed and sniffling, out of the station and to his car. I ended up sitting in the passenger seat as he drove me to my apartment. Only when we arrived did I realize that my own car was parked back at the station. Alucard said that he'd have someone bring it to his place later. I only nodded, since I no longer knew what to say, not quite comprehending his words.

I numbly packed my belongings into a suitcase with fingers and hands frozen over by loss. My nerve endings were covered in a thick layer of ice, freezing me, and not allowing me to feel anything. Every sensation was dulled and slow, as if I wasn't fully in control of my own body.

With everything I needed packed away, including every picture I had of my father and me, I grabbed Alucard's business card off of my desk and pocketed it. I wasn't sure why, but I felt as though I had to take it with me.

Alucard took my bag and tossed it into the trunk of his car. I sat down once again and Alucard began driving.

We drove in silence for a majority of the ride. I stared out of the window, alternating between watching the speeding scenery, my wretched face, and Alucard's focused stare reflected in the window.

Abruptly, Alucard spoke.

"Do you want to work for Hellsing?" he asked.

I turned to look at him. His eyes were still glued on the road in front of him, but he was clearly waiting for an answer.

"Anything to find out what happened," I said.

Alucard glanced at me. It was a brief moment, but it signaled his concern for me. "We'll find everything you want to know. I promise," he said.

I nodded in understanding and thanks, my head throbbing with a mild headache and the after effects of severe sobbing.

I turned back to the window, attempting to lose myself in thought. After seeing images of my father and Jack flicker in and out of my vision, I shut my eyes, and was lulled to sleep by the dull drone of the car taking me towards my new life.

Jack

Jack stepped into his own apartment, darkened by the setting of the sun, and the unilluminated lamp he always neglected to leave on before leaving. He shut the door behind him, internally scolding himself for forgetting such a simple task for the umpteenth time.

Jack tossed his keys into his pocket, slipped off his shoes, and turned on the lights in one motion. He mentally gave himself a pat on the back for accomplishing all that without tripping.

The moment he oriented himself in the light, he headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner for himself.

He cracked open a can of soup, and put a pot of water on the stove to boil. He was tired and worn out from the stress of worrying about Seras, and didn't feel like making anything fancy for dinner.

He decided that he would visit Seras again tomorrow and together, the two of them could have something nice to make up for all that had happened. Jack smiled at the thought.

Out of nowhere, Jack heard a dull thump sound from the opposite end of his apartment. Jack was a cautious man, and wasn't stupid enough to go investigate on his own.

He turned off the stove, put the can of soup in the fridge, and grabbed his station issued handgun from the drawer next to the fridge. He loaded the gun, and set off to the back of his apartment.

Jack's apartment was smaller than Seras'. It only had one bedroom and bathroom in comparison to her two and two. The noise he'd heard had come from his bedroom.

Jack cautiously crept up to his bedroom door, and turned off the safety on his gun. He waited, listening for another sound. Feeling confident that there was nothing out of place behind his bedroom door, Jack opened it up.

The moment Jack opened the door, he regretted it.

There wasn't a single thing out of place, and the window wasn't even open. But, the light from the hallway behind Jack should be casting his shadow into the floor in front of him.

Instead of seeing just one shadow, Jack saw two.

The one that wasn't his was holding a gun to the back of his head.

Jack only had time to mentally apologize to Seras for the pain he was about to cause her before he heard the sound of a gun being fired, and the world faded to a colour that was darker than black.

Author's Note: I promise I'm not actually evil! There is a reason this is all happening to poor Seras... But, you'll never know unless you choose to stick around and find out ;D The next couple of chapters are much lighter, so you can all put your tissue boxes and chocolate bars away for a bit. Not sure how long it'll last though... *dun, dun dun* Anyway, thank you to everyone who's reading this fic right now! I hope you're enjoying it! Please, I'd really, really appreciate a review, about my writing, the fic, my ideas, anything. I really love hearing from you guys! It makes my day :'D Thanks for being patient with me, and as always,

Thanks for reading!

-Shan