A/N:Ello, another one so soon, I know, but I just can't help myself :D Anyway, this one is rather short, but full of little goodies for yous, so there ought not to be many complaints. It is a stand alone chapter which adds absolutely nothing to the present situation. Think of it as being set in the past, set before Alucard wakes up.

So, without further ado, please enjoy this latest installment.

The Forgotten.

She would wake in the evening, climb into the shower and wash the sleep from her body, rubbing half-hearted soapy circles into her dead flesh. No thoughts slipped past her net, the one she'd thrown up to protect herself from the reality that raged on in her world. Inside her chambers it was quiet, still, dark. She never bothered with the lights anymore; why should she? Her eyes worked better in the dark now anyway and she wasn't in the habit of denying herself a good thing… A better thing…

Towel less, she would dress herself with military precision; gloves first, underwear second, then socks, her undershirt, then uniform shirt, skirt, tie and eventually the armband that dictated her possession by the Hellsing family. It was the same every morning and done in utter silence.

Although her exit of her chambers would signal her entry into the hell of the outside, there was never any lingering. Her trek to the garrison was always made on steady feet and never took any longer than it had to. When she spoke her voice obeyed her commands and it never shook.

Her nights lasted as long as they always had and nothing was ever different about the way she did her job. She joked, she laughed loudly, she killed those upon whom Sir Integra's finger fell and she did it all with a dazzlingly bright and chirpy smile. But it was a lie…

Even though the things she did seemed no different from anything she had done in the past; sleeping with the lights off; staying by herself in the evenings when she wasn't needed… They were the things she had to do to keep her thoughts off of him.

Her hands shook. They wouldn't hold her gun properly. It was such a problem that she had to ask for a pair of Katana from Sir Integra in order to dispatch her foes. They didn't want to understand why he wasn't there anymore. They didn't want to know why they were partaking in her evening rituals, helping to prepare her for another night without him.

Her eyes didn't have this problem. They saw what was there to be seen, he wasn't appearing as a mirage at the ends of corridors, he wasn't even appearing in her dreams. They saw the reality that faced them and seemed to accept it for the most part.

Her hands though… Were they wiser than her eyes? Knowing that she wasn't alright with this? They shook because this was something they couldn't break down and rearrange the way they wanted. They were angry. Every time she thought she would be alright, it was her hands that always proved her wrong. The cups of tea she served to Sir Integra in Walter's place had little flecks of spilt tea on the saucer. Her make-up was always slightly squiffy these days, wobbly lines tracking around her eyes. Not enough to be noticeable to a living eye, but they were noticeable to her.

When they put her to bed in the mornings, they clutched at the sheets she pulled around herself and when her eyes were finally shut… They broke down the walls around her that she threw up each evening, allowing her to break down with them… Thoughts of him crept in, the smile, the eye, his laugh… Her last thought was always of him… The first kiss... Her first love…

A/N: Adds absolutely nothing to the story, I know, but I wrote it and by golly I'm going to publish it! Cyber cookies to anyone who can tell me which song inspired my to write this, the options are:

A) My All - Mariah Carey
B) My Hands - Leona Lewis
C) Snuff - Slipknot

Cyber cookies also go to everyone who can tell me who the story is about! See ya 'round!

-Lapin