Hello dear readers :3

This is my first Hellsing fanfic translated into English. I hope you'll like it, I'm pretty nervous to be true^^

I was inspired to write this due some wonderful works from the very talented Artist shoriani. Please visit her tumblr page to see awesome Hellsing paintings of all characters. She's absolutely wonderful and a totally sweet being!

And nooow enjoy reading!

The coffee in front of me is dark and cloudy.
And as gloomy as my own mind.
I ordered it a quarter of an hour ago, now it gets cold and I do nothing but stare. Fascinated, I watch my faint reflection on its fluent surface. I gently flick a fingertip against the edge of the cup. My image is blurred, distorted, while the black liquid proposes small waves. So easy to get out of the concept, it's so easy to step out of line. Yes, I can identify myself with the coffee's reflection. This blurry, distorted silhouette is not foreign to me.
And to you it has become one of the closest confidants.

Isn't this right, Major?

It's been quite long since we met last time.
You were covered in blood, your eyes filled with dilated pain, closer to death than life. I saved you again, patched you together again, just as I have done it so many times before. How often did I offer to demob you as a wounded war veteran? To give you an early retirement, so you can still go back home safe and sound? I have lost count. You took my words with indignation, rejected every time anew, and ran towards the battlefield once again. Often I thought you'd be no more than a sick idiot who feasted on war as the hyenas on rotten meat. I have insulted you, accused you to break yourself into little meaningless pieces. But you just laughed and told me that I should not worry about you.
You idiot, why should I have worried about YOU ?! You were only a simple soldier at that time. A human being who sought blood and destruction. Insane men like you came by to my infirmary everyday, hundreds of them. Did you really think you'd be any different for me? Special?
... Yes. When you didn't want to die, and repeatedly requested me as your doctor, you became it for me. Special. A fascinating and bizarre kind of special.

Strange how fate's paths tangle…

Your words were probably what attracted me at last, cast me in your spell. You have such a compelling way to describe your reasons and preferences. I think after I stitched your left leg the third time (or was it the right one?... nevermind), you started to tell me more about yourself than it would actually have been required by your health. You told with fervor about the bloody goings at the front, explaining wide-eyed how uplifting it was to be involved in a deadly struggle of man against man. With a mixture of disgust, horror and slowly growing understanding I listened to your euphoric voice. With a proud grin you said you would not even fear death. The main thing to you was to end your life and find yourself on the battlefield, in the midst of blood, bullets and the dust of wounded corpses.
I cut it short then, asking you about your family. If they would not be sad hearing you've died in the war.
This was the first and only time in which I saw your fanatical eyes suddenly become dull. You quickly looked away to inspect the gray sheets of the hospital bed beneath you before you gave me an answer. You said there would be no one who would be waiting for you at home. This here, this war, even this infirmary would be your true and only home. You would die in the lifeless company of men with whom you had fought side by side. You saw them as your brothers. Your relatives in the endless loop of massacre.
And me as your friend.
I choked on the water that I wanted to drink during your answer, and coughed horribly. You just added an indefinable smile to this unflattering reaction. Even patted my back patronizingly, while I tried not to suffocate between my own harsh breaths. This probably meant a witty remark, I didn't even honored a comment for. I was not a humorous person, have never been one. Because I could never see the point of *fun*. It was just a waste of time to delight in nonsensical, poorly researched facts.

I like you, Doc you said, still grinning broadly, Your mind is so refeshing unnormal.

Please, how should I interpret this compliment? Should I have agreed with you? Or even react offended? I did not know, so I just nodded seriously and made an important face. It made you laugh. Unnormal? Well, I'd say this term only applies to my nonexisting social skills. I've never been good with people.
They are confusing, childish, almost impossible to understand. In science, it's a lot easier. It consists of concrete formulas, equations and manageably perfect, imperturbable logic. People, however, are crammed to burst with emotions, hormones, and other unimportant bits and pieces. A disastrous combination.

Then we were both silent until I had tightened the bandage around your leg. But it was, if I can judge at all, a comfortable silence.
We shook hands, just as we did every time just before you left again. You were already almost out of the tent when I suddenly felt the (completely incomprehensible) urge, to say another farewell.
"Don't die before I do." I called.
You stayed like you were petrified and I was embarassed. It was a pathetic attempt to also offer up something amusing. Don't know why I felt compelled, why I wanted to prove you that I was not entirely abnormal. But apparently, thus I had achieved the exact opposite of what I wanted to achieve. Because you laughed. Laughed uproariously and moved again.

"I'll try." you replied over your shoulder.
Then you were gone. Again on the way to the front. I'm not sure how I would have described my state of mind at this time.
I only knew one thing clearly after hours of careful consideration.
I would have been happier if you hadn't gone this time.

I did not see you for two years.
Two years. A very long time, I'd say. I was afraid that you had died and your body lay with those of your dead comrades on the filed, buried somewhere in the dirt. Logically, this was the only possible outcome of your insane fuss. And yet somehow I did not quite believe it because sometimes I hoped you would hobble just back through the doorway again, covered with new injuries and imperiously calling my name. It was an illusion, a hope so flimsy, so thin-skinned that it could hardly keep itself alive.
And yet, now I'm sitting here in this dark room. Waiting for you.
I was ordered out of the camp, right here, and let me wait for no less than three hours. The reason for this relocation was a letter. An escort of many military officials had followed. My jaw almost dropped when I saw the signature of your name on the envelope. And even more incredible: Your rank : Deputy of the Fuehrer.
For a short period of time the letters curled up in my mind, sprawled and rotated. I was dizzy. You. Ironically, YOU were the Fuhrer's deputy ?! Suddenly, all the times I had scolded you because of your injuries like a little boy, our conversations, your love for war, my academic dreams. How could I have overlooked this important detail? And why in heaven's name did you never revealed yourself?! The Deputy of the Fuehrer has never appeared in public before. Everyone knew it was him, only his identity remained until further obscured so that it lay in wait for any attacks. And now I had to learn, to my horror, that I spent several months with the second most powerful man in Germany and had not paid him the respect he deserved – not once! I just thought you were a simple soldier, how could I think otherwise, even your face was so ordinary!
A brown soldier's uniform, a small, pudgy stature, short, blonde hair, formed into a strange side parting, wearing glasses.
And gold, burning eyes. Seriously, how should I have guessed that? I nervously pat the table surface with my fingertips. You had written to me, you want to meet to discuss something ¨life changing¨. I'm looking forward to this meeting with mixed feelings. Now that I know who you are, in fact, I can not really imagine how to behave towards you. Will you strut in here and look at me with a triumphant mocking grin? Or will you be reserved, cool, for I stand much lower in the food chain than you? Questions, questions accumulate in my head, and I don't dare to answer a single one.

The clicking of the door lock freezes my thoughts for a moment. I try to collect myself. What will happen to me? What do you want from me? I'm just a scientist, a doctor.
Nothing more.

You have not changed at all.

While you are wearing a far nobler uniform, draped with several medals, you're still as I had you in mind. Well, maybe you have gained a bit more weight around your waist, but after two years of silence I should probably not be so picky. And your smile is the same, you wear it on display like a trophy, like a sword. But you use it not to threaten me. At least I have never felt anything like discomfort because of that smile. If so, then only confusion. But that's typical for me, especially when it comes to this silly emotions.

"Doc, it's so good to see you." you greet me.

There lies, I believe, a sincere joy in your voice. Like an arrow I jump up and salute to you.

"I'm also glad about this reunion, Mr. Stellvertreter."

You lift an irritated brow. Apparently it surprises you that I react so formally. A few moments ago even I was unaware of the force a simple title can have according to one's manners.
To be honest, I'm puzzled and feel pretty stupid. Almost ashamed I sit back down, folding hands in my lap, and consider my view stubbornly directed to the table surface. I hear your footsteps heading to me, and you're falling into the chair opposite my location. The table is not very large, more like a coffee table than a knight's table. Therefore, this room probably appears so empty to me - except for this table, there is no furniture. I suspect this is an ancient space, used for special meetings or for interrogation. Of course I can only guess, but I hope that I have not been invited to an interrogation. I can dimly remember (probably I had inhaled too much of my own medical concoctions at that time) to have told you of my true passion, addressing people as an experimental subject with a touch of naive credulity. In retrospect, some stupid fools could call me insane, alienated from reality.
I glance up from under my glasses, just to see how you discard your coat. Hopefully I have not misjudged you, hopefully you're really none of these fools who say my visions is just sick prattling. Or worse, they drop me in a psychiatry!
"But, however, you don't need to get formal now." You sound a bit more cheerful after the initial shock. "We know each other well enough to let go of such annoying banter."

"Oh, do we?" I reply. This serene speeches nibble on my nerves. "Why did you never told me who you really are? Since the first moment I saw you I thought you were an ordinary soldier. So I don't think we know each other as well as you might believe."
I don't know why, but my light fit of rage struggles a smile from your thin lips.
With due respect, but WHAT is so funny here!?
"You think, of course. You always think, spending hours and days of incessant thoughts because you don't like feelings that much. The fact that it doesn't surprise me hearing you talk like that, confirmes me just how familiar we've become."
You look at me directly, your eyes are still golden. Golden, shiny and fanatical. You're truly the same man as you've been two years ago.
"I had to keep secret about my true identity. On the one hand I wanted it this way, on the other hand I couldn't do otherwise. What do you say when I tell you what horrible kind of torture had been practiced to you if someone had accidentally overheard our discussions? Also in German camps the enemy's spies may occur. If you had been initiated into my secret, you could have possibly suffered under fatal consequences. And I really didn't want something happen to you, Doc. That would have been a pity for both of us."
Again, a confusing statement in which you put an unspoken compliment. I only wonder, am I supposed to be happy about this or not? This explanation is plausible to me though… hm, one point that still seems odd to me.

¨"Why have you been a normal foot soldier? You could have died there every single day! Why did you expose yourself to such risks, shouldn't you remain on the leader's side?"
A laugh. Cheerful, ill. Can't you be serious, not even for a single moment !?
"The leader gets wonderfully along without me. In addition, you know how I feel about the war. I have never lied to you, Doc, believe me. Why should a simple rank take me away from the simple joy of bloody battles and burning earth? Moreover, without my decision to stay at the front all these years, I would have certainly never met you. And when I think about it, your anonymity would have been a mighty loss to all of us. Especially if one considers your revolutionary ideas and plans."
I knew it. You have not forgotten it.
Even after two years you have not forgotten anything.
I clear my throat and stretch my back. I try to take my controlled, serious attitude. That seems to me even though quite unnatural, but it helps me indirectly to keep a clear head.

"If this is so, friend, I would like to know exactly why you quoted me here. I demand an explanation."

"No problem at all. I really missed having a nice chat with you."

Following this meeting, my whole life has been turned upside down.
I was catapulted into a world infested with creatures of the night and genetically impossible figures. You arranged a position as scientist fro me, talking to the leader in personal, I got all the material I needed. For a researcher like me it was the spoken heaven on earth. I made my dreams come true, as I experimented with genes. I mixed human with animal, felt like the second Dr. Frankenstein. It was my paradise. And I saw you more often. Almost every week you met me, asked about my progress, and I was willing to present it to you.
My first successful creation, was a so-called catgirl, a mixture of cat and human woman. I was very proud to have created something so revolutionary in such short time. I had created a new race. But unfortunately the leader decided to see this different. He wanted me to make tough soldiers from the treadmill, no pretty girls.
... Well, in the end it was not in vain. Finally, this compound was established by our Schrödinger. Even if he is incredibly naughty, his unique ability to be everywhere and nowhere has always been a sensational success for you. Schrödinger will be our trump card Doc, believe me! you said, grinning at me. I already knew you so well that I believed you unconditionally.

And so it began.

You did everything to take me under your command, and finally the leader agreed to give us our Millennium project - put it into action - an army of artificially created vampires. You bought the necessary material, I used my brain, just as I always have. I tried to never disappoint you, and you never gave up to force the creation of a profound bond with me.
I never really understood why it was me being so close to your heart; you even considered me as your friend. Probably a curious form of social bonding addiction, that apparently stuck with you. You made sure I almost always stayed by your side, I acted as your counselor, your doctor, and your right hand, while Hans Günsche stepped in as your bodyguard using his gorgeous skills.
This went on for several years until Alucard and Walter came and found us.
They destroyed all our achievements in a single night. But we did not give up.
You spoke of revenge, of a new and better war… You spoke of the death of the No-Life King.

And of course, you were right. You were always right.
It was finally Schrödinger, we had to thank for our retribution in the end.

And now I'm here to take my notes from the drawers, while the ceiling of the zeppelin threatens to collapse around me. You stayed at the headquarters, fighting your last battle with this Hellsing woman. I know you won't return. I'll never see you again. Now it's only time to save my own life.

It 's strange that I have to think back to our first meeting just now.
All the things you told me. All the dreams you've shared, and eventually became my own. Major, are you dead already? I can't feel your presence anymore.
I think I can't feel anything.
Never again.

And maybe it's better this way.
You've got what you always wanted. The ultimate war. Your death will take place in the middle of a gigantic battlefield named London. What about me? Well, I'm alone again. That's fine, I don't need company, have never really needed one. The science has stayed with me. Even your death I take as indifferent. It was no surprise that it would happen sometime, was it?

We exchanged no words of farewell.
Not once have we considered to actually die here.
I wonder if I should feel something now. Grief? Rage? Or disappointment? No. I have never been good with feelings. I'm certainly not going to begin being emotional now. I shouldn't think too much about how your body must lie in the dust this time, forgotten and rusty and rotten. How your eyes look into the distance, glassy and lifeless. Your golden, fanatical eyes. Dull, dead. It leaves a kind of trepidation in me that does not want to please me at all. Oh, to hell with it! I have to save my research before it falls victim to the flames.
Otherwise I really have nothing left.

I have to start all over again.
Find new ways to improve my results, revolutionize them.
Time I have enough, my body is timeless, I can patch up myself over and over again. Finally, I kept you alive with slowly turning you into a machine, why shouldn't I accomplish the same ? And although you were a cyborg, you're always remained a man. You've at least affirmed me often enough. I see the jagged output before me. I can reach it easily, the ceiling's breaking into fractures. Straightway I run through the demolished transitions, walking over rotting corpses. I have to be quick, inconspicuous. You may not know that I'm still alive. Suddenly I see the sunlight shining through an open door. I can finally get outside. I leave the Zeppelin now. I leave everything. You'll sure do not take it as offense that I don't feel the need to die here.

Farewell, Major.

Farewell, my friend ...

As I walk through the gate of a new beginning, I feel something wet running down my cheek painfully slow.
I ignore it.
I'm sure it's justone of these annoyingfeelings that I don't know what to do with.

Someday it will fade away… like me.

I'm so sorry I couldn't say goodbye to you, Major. Maybe it will be granted to me in another life.

If we ever meet again.