A/N: Hello, everyone. Thank you for your patience. Here is the next chapter!

I welcome all new and returning readers! Please enjoy!

Warnings: Descriptions of death, blood, gore, and body decay.

Contrary to belief, Anderson did not leave London immediately.

Instead, he lingered.

Around the Hellsing gates, contemplating burning the damn thing to the ground.

Around Tower Bridge, praying for something–anything.

It was only after the police threatened to detain him for attempting to dive into the River Thames that Anderson finally returned to Rome.

To the praise of his fellow priests.

To the commendation of His Holiness.

To the gnawing hole consuming his heart.

It didn't matter if Olivia Emese Song was innocent or not. A heathen was a heathen, so her death was met with a smile.

The fallen priests' souls had their retribution, and Hellsing was on the verge of collapse.

Therefore, the Pope deemed it right to offer a reward.

"I've done nothing to be praised for." Anderson insisted, down on one knee before the Pope.

"Your humility is to be expected." The Pope nodded in approval. "However even The Lord rewarded his flock while on Earth. Now, tell me what you desire."

Protests danced on Anderson's tongue, but he swallowed them knowing they would fall on deaf ears.

Instead, he actually pondered on his request, the old mill on the outskirts of Vatican City coming to mind along with the countless orphans who roamed the streets.

All of them had Olivia's face.

"I wish to open an orphanage, Your Holiness. A sanctuary for the innocent away from those who dare to harm them."

The Pope narrowed his eyes while the other priests whispered amongst themselves.

"An orphanage?"

"Not a promotion to bishop?"

"A child shephading other children? How strange!"

How strange indeed.

But at the determined gleam in Anderson's eyes, The Pope conceded and praised him again for his devotion to his vocation.

So,armed with supplies and a book from the carpenter, Anderson went to work.

Perhaps it would've been wiser to entrust the professionals but doing this with his own hands…..it felt like the right thing to do.

His hands soon became littered with splinters, scrapes, and bruises yet he pushed forward until construction was complete. He didn't even wait to take in his handiwork before rushing out to Rome's streets, no longer an amateur builder but a shepherd in search of his lambs.

Soon the orphanage was filled with 13 of them: Tanya, the eldest at 12, then Markel, Lea, Daisy, the twins Marlo and Ike, Belle, Robin, Max, Lisette, Pascal, Lily and finally Katia, the youngest at 3.

Some were abandoned, some lost, and some the sole remainder of their family. But Anderson did his best to bring them joy, finding reserves of patience and warmth within that he never knew he had. Even his manner of speaking had grown softer–more wise and mature.

In the passing days, children brought joy and light to his life as well with their smiles and endless cheer.

Yet the hole remained, and its presence wasn't entirely birthed from guilt.

No, it was also uncertainty?

Anxiety?

Like he was missing something but what?

The demon was gone, Hellsing was crashing down, and normalcy had returned to Vatican City.

So why was he consumed with the urge to turn the world upside down and drag everything into the light?

After weeks of lying awake with his nerves on fire and his heart pounding in his ears, Anderson was on the verge of breaking down.

As a result, he was more curt with those around him, but his ire never reached the children–no, all they knew was the gentle, soft-spoken priest who taught them scripture and saved them from the streets.

Ironically enough though, it was because of the children that all his questions were answered.

"Children, I told you 'lights out' an hour ago." Anderson stood in the twins' doorway, finding Marlo and Ike hunched over in the room's center. "And what is the 7th commandment again?"

"Thou shalt not steal, Father." The duo answered in unison.

"Correct, so why do you have Lea's radio?"

"We were going to put it back, Father!" Ike insisted while Marlo tacked on a, "Yeah! After the program ends, we are going to give it back!"

"That is still stealing, you two." Anderson chided, hands on his hips before immediately crossing his arms with a blush. "And what program?"

"There's a radio show in Tirano that talks about creepy sightings around the world."

"They get calls from all across Europe! Last week a fishing boat near Foulness Island reported lots and lots of crows circling the area and the farmers' crops have been rotting all of a sudden and the animals–!"

"Enough." Anderson clapped his hands, promptly silencing the animated twins. "Recite the Act of Contrition and say ten Hail Marys. Then it's off to bed. And," He swiped the radio from them. "I forbid you from indulging in this filth. Understood?"

"Yes, Father." The twins sulked before kneeling beside their beds and doing the sign of the cross.

Once penance was served and the children tucked away, Anderson closed their door and made his way down the corridor.

"Father Anderson!" A voice called out and lo-and-behold there was Lea in her nightgown and slippers. "My radio is missing–Again! I know those brats have been in my room!"

"There will be none of that language. And your radio is right here." Anderson plopped the device into her hand and pivoted her back towards her room. "Now off to bed."

Once he was alone once more, Anderson rubbed his forehead as a headache began rearing its ugly mug.

"I now understand why Mother Superior had a cabinet full of aspirin." He trudged to his room and sat down on the bed. "Please, Lord, don't let me turn into her though."

All the children were in bed and evening mass finished, it was natural the next course of action as both priest and teacher was to plan tomorrow's lessons.

But the adolescent part of Anderson was louder, and he flopped back on the sheets with a groan.

For a while, he studied the wooden ceiling and recited the Luminous Mysteries of the rosary.

Then, gradually, his eyes became heavy and with the final lines of "Hail, Holy Queen" on his lips, he fell asleep.

The scent of sea salt tickled his nose.

The breeze brushed his cheeks.

The echoes of crows tingled his ears.

The taste of copper stained his tongue.

Anderson opened his eyes and found himself standing in a crop field. Rows of carrots, cabbage, and potatoes were spread out before him with a single water pump perched in the center.

His body, acting on its own, made its way to the pump and picked up the watering can next to it.

He filled it up, the clear water sparkling in the moonlight, and proceeded to water the crops.

Immediately the once lush vegetables began to rot and melted to sludge. A putrid odor permeated, and Anderson dropped the watering can in disgust.

Red, viscous liquid spilled from the can as the pump shook violently before chunks of viscera gushed from the spout.

"Heavenly Father…." Anderson stumbled back, the fields rapidly becoming overflowed with blood.

Then something shot out from the pump and rolled to a stop at his feet–a severed rabbit foot.

"What the….?" Anderson bent down to touch it, only for a hand to shoot out of the blood and snatch his wrist and everything went dark.

Anderson jolted awake, finding himself splayed out on the floor.

He scrambled to his feet, wild eyes twirling around.

Eventually his vision cleared, and his pulse steadied when he realized he was safe in his room.

"What in the world?" Anderson groaned into his palms, snapshots of his nightmare zipping through his mind.

The smell of sea salt.

The echo of the crows

The rotting crops.

The—.

Anderson's eyes shot open, recalling what Ike and Marlo had told him.

No.

No way.

But could it be connected?

The gnawing hole in his chest answered for him.

His body acted on his own, his consciousness briefly questioning his mental state, as he yanked a book on global geography from the shelf and frantically flipped through it.

"Foulness Island." Anderson read aloud, eyes burning into the tiny island illustrated on England's coast.

He traced the rivers that drained into it, throat clenching when his finger hovered over London.

It was madness, all of this over a dream and stupid radio program.

Besides! Anderson had never teleported across countries!

What if he ended up in the middle of the sea?!

What if he ended up in Asia?!

And yet, despite his mental protests, that didn't stop Anderson from grabbing his Bible and focusing with all his might.

So much so that the veins were popping out of his forehead until eventually the pages started to glow and flutter.

Then–Poof!-he was gone.

The serene night was broken by Anderson's screams as he crashed into a field and tumbled across five rows of carrots.

'Rotten carrots,' He noted, scrambling for his glasses and standing tall, dirt and grass caked to his form.

It was just like his dream, every last detail from the water pump to the crows in the distance.

Without hesitation, he briskly made his way in the crows direction, the only sounds being his footsteps and his frantic breathing.

This can't be.

This can't be!

The crows' cawing grew deafening, and with one sweep of tall grass out of his way, the hole in Anderson's chest imploded and he finally found his answers.

There, on the shore of a stream surrounded by flocks of crows and wild animals, was a body.

"No…..NO!" Anderson rushed forward, swinging his arms for the animals to disperse. "GO AWAY! GET AWAY FROM HER!"

And when they did, he collapsed to his knees and let out a strangled cry.

Olivia.

Or rather what remained of her.

Her body had been feasted on by animals, shredded by the rocks in the river, and had been on shore long enough for putrefaction to take place–long enough for her rotting flesh to infiltrate the island's aquifers where the water pump drew from.

There were no identifying features remaining, but her left hand where the indent of her missing ring had burned into her skin–the same hand that held his after making him hot chocolate despite his aborance towards her–that was all Anderson needed to know this was Olivia.

Hands burrowing into his face, he wept violently at this confirmation.

She didn't deserve this.

"I'm sorry," He whimpered, unable to look at her without another wave of tears bombarding him. "I'm so sorry, Olivia…..I–!"

"Anderson…..Alexander…..please," Olivia collapsed onto her stomach, unable to sit up straight anymore. "Take me back to the manor….take me to my husband…please…"

Memories of her final request flashed through his mind, and that gave him enough strength to lower his hands.

He had a decision to make.

Either way, Anderson couldn't leave her here.

Ignoring his gag reflex, Anderson grabbed Olivia's hand–nearly weeping again at the ice cold sensation–and whipped out his Bible.

'Gracious God, please,' He prayed as the pages glowed once more. 'Transport us both home safely. Please, allow me to take her with me!'

Luckily his arrival was more graceful this time around, and he gently landed in his bedroom with Olivia laying at his feet.

What now?

Even if he brought Olivia to that monster, could anything be done?

But that was her final request, and he owed her a debt so—.

The childrens' faces zipped through his mind along with the memories of Olivia's cries as Hellsing–the organization she sold her life to–betrayed her.

"...No….." Anderson whispered before repeating it again, more firmly with a sneer. "No. It is because of that monster that your fate ended like this. I will not allow him to ruin you in death too!"

So what now?

Would he bury her?

Where?

All burials on Vatican grounds had to be documented, and it wasn't like he could sneak a coffin in without anyone noticing.

Groaning, Anderson pulled at his hair, pacing the room before his gaze fell upon Olivia.

"If you could start again," He gently knelt beside her, hand hovering over hers, "Would you have made a different choice? Would you–?"

Anderson's blood ran cold as a thought popped into his head.

A thought he–a servant of God–had no right or authority to even entertain.

A thought that would surely damn him for even attempting.

But, his hand touching Olivia's, he already made his decision.

"Gracious Father, if I have your blessing, may that door open for me. I….I have to believe all these occurrences were your doing–that I was meant to find Olivia and bring her here. If this truly is your will," Anderson declared, standing tall and placing his bed sheet over Olivia. "Then this is how I will repay my debt."

And so, whipping out his Bible once more, he was gone in a flurry of golden scripture.

Two hours later found Anderson kneeling beside Olivia in one of the spare rooms, medical supplies and something wrapped in a purple pouch at his side.

The room was a storage for excess building materials, and Anderson had originally planned to seal it off so the children wouldn't get hurt exploring.

But now….now it served a different purpose.

Sleeves rolled up and his shirt hoisted over his nose, he got to work cleaning her body.

Plucking maggots from her face.

Washing dirt and seaweed from her body.

Covering gashes with bandages.

Clumsy sewing partially severed limbs back together.

Then, turning towards the pouch, Anderson unwrapped it and pulled out a large sheet of linen.

The shroud of Lazarus.

Despite his age, Anderson knew more than his superiors thought he did. Like where the holy relics were stored and when the guard changed.

The perks of being the youngest–no one suspects you.

Anderson would never use his knowledge for wicked reasons though–no he lived only to serve His Lord and to accomplish the tasks entrusted upon him.

"I believe this is one of those tasks, My God." Anderson did the Sign of the Cross before reaching towards Olivia, only to hesitate at the last second.

Was this the right thing to do?

What if this was the Devil tempting him?

What if the holy relic rejected Olivia and transformed her into a monster?

Shaking the doubts away, Anderson took a deep breath and recited the Lord's Prayer again and again as he wrapped the linen around Olivia until her body was fully covered.

Then, mustering all his strength, Anderson hoisted her up and placed her on the stone block in the middle of the room.

After chiseling her name onto it, Anderson clasped his hands together and prayed.

Eternal rest grant onto her, O Lord

And may perpetual light shine upon her

And may she rest in peace

"Amen." Anderson concluded, taking one final look at her before gathering the pile of chains in the corner and exiting the room.

'Whatever happens now,' Anderson secured the chains and locks across the door before covering it with a portrait of the Blessed Mother, 'Whether you rise or remain in eternal slumber,' Heart pounding in his ears, he placed a hand over his heart, another hole forming through the scar tissue, 'I swear to never let that monster find you again.'

A/N: The next chapter will be focused on Anderson again and have some time skips before we go back to Pushpa and Alucard! I hope you liked this chapter! Thank you all for your support! Please safe and healthy and kind to each other! See you in the next chapter!