Hellsing 1. Prologue

A/N: This is my first attempt at fanfiction of any genre; I generally shy away from writing about other people's characters. So if you enjoy the story, leave a review and wish Andleeb a happy birthday, because this wouldn't have been written if not for her.

Disclaimer: Hellsing? Not mine.

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The Hellsing manor was an intimidating fortress of stone and mortar, glass and steel. It was the sort of place that would make a perfect backdrop for a good ghost story, and was likely rumored to be haunted. Even in a place as castle-rich as Britain, it exuded a sort of dark menace that made innocent passerby hesitate to draw near. Their fears were not unfounded. Yet if, just for a moment, you could be as formless as one of the ghosts in those walls and slip unnoticed into the high-ceilinged rooms, what strange and awesome things would you see? You would float down to the dungeons, perhaps, for that is where all the best bloody tales begin; and blood aplenty you would find. Century-old bloodstains brown and maroon on the stones, wet crimson splatters and everything in between. But far more fascinating is the figure that sits alone in a darkened cell, clutching a white leather glove. He does not move or blink, merely stares at the glove as if hypnotized. Upon closer inspection you see that the glove too is bloodstained. Given the state of the room it hardly seems worth noting. What is so special about this glove, then? What holds the silent figure spellbound? After a moment you begin to understand. Though the figure wears white gloves of his own – indeed, is never seen without them – this glove is not his. It is too small to fit his hands, a delicate thing. Feminine.

And it is stained with blood.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine. Just the story.

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The car crash occurred at approximately 6:15 pm, Greenwich Mean Time. Sir Hellsing was on her way back from a council meeting on the subject of British arms manufacture, leisurely smoking a cigar in the back seat of a black Mercedes. The young chauffeur couldn't quite keep the expression of distaste off of his face as he took in the pungent smell, but wisely said nothing. Both car and chauffeur were on loan from the council's host, a young lord who was eager to show off all of his newly inherited assets. Integra disliked using cars and servants provided by others, but she had not been able to find an excuse that would justify refusing the offer. She was about to be provided with one, albeit entirely too late to be of any use.

Just as Integra extinguished the cigar and turned to look out the window, the car shuddered violently. She didn't even have time to throw an indignant curse at the driver before her body was slammed against the opposite side of the car with enough force to bruise her face and knock her glasses off her nose.

_Oh God_, she thought, _the car's out of control_.

It was an astute assessment. It took mere seconds for the car to veer off the highway onto a steep slope, complete three full revolutions, and tear a gaping hole in the trunk of the pine tree that stopped its descent. The driver was killed instantly. Sir Hellsing, meanwhile, was broken and pinned in the crumpled metal, but alive. Her thoughts were a bit jumbled from her newly acquired concussion, but if one were to pick through that mess of pain and confusion to isolate something coherent, it would most likely be along the lines of "Bloody hell." In the space of five breaths she succumbed to unconsciousness, her frantic heart pumping fresh blood onto the upholstery.

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Around 8:00 that night, Alucard awoke from his daytime slumber with a disquieting feeling that all was not right in the world. It was the work of a moment to sense his master's pain and track her down; the copious amounts of Hellsing blood spilled in the pine woods drew him to the crash site like a beacon. Another few seconds saw them both safely ensconced in the private medical facility the Hellsing soldiers used, Sir Integra in an operating room and Alucard lurking in a nearby hallway. The surgery itself took far longer, leaving the vampire with nothing to do but dwell on those two fateful hours that _she_ had been near death while _he_ indulged in useless sleep.

In the end it took four hours to stitch her back together — _two for every hour I didn't come for her_, he thought bitterly — before the surgeons were satisfied that Integra would live. Alucard drifted over to the room they had set aside for her recuperation, unwilling to enter and disturb her, but comforted by her scent and the steady rhythms of breath and heartbeat he could hear through the wall. The worst of the danger was past, and now he could turn his mind to more pleasant things. He would avenge the harm done to his master; there would be blood, and screaming. Catlike eyes narrowed as a cold smile split his face, and he allowed his body to merge with the shadows. The first thing to do was find Walter. The butler was sure to have his own theories about what had happened on that roadside, and together they would sniff out the ones responsible for Integra's current condition. Then the _real_ fun could begin.

He found Walter in the first place he looked, an out-of-the-way study the man used sometimes when he wanted to be alone to think. No matter how careful you are about guarding your privacy, there are few people who can keep a secret from a creature that can be both silent and invisible. He held himself still for a few moments to watch Walter pace the length of the room, pause, and begin again. So he had heard already. The worried lines around his eyes and mouth gave him away. Alucard stepped out of the darkness in the corner of the room, directly into Walter's path. Flat angry eyes met his own without the least touch of surprise.

"She's alright, then?"

"I wouldn't go quite that far. But she'll live."

Walter lowered his head and nodded thoughtfully before raising his face to look at Alucard again.

"Well, what are we waiting for?"

Despite himself, Alucard smirked. Walter shared and understood his need for vengeance. It was one of the reasons he had become so fond of him.

"I don't know what you're waiting for," he drawled, "but I was waiting for you, old man."

Walter nodded once more and gave Alucard a small smile of acknowledgment before walking out the door the vampire held open for him. He ignored the mocking bow with characteristic British dignity.

They took a car to the crash site. Walter drove, of course; Alucard had no need to use cars for transportation, and as such had never learned how to operate one. He still found them tedious and intolerably slow, but allowances had to be made when one kept company with humans. He watched the trees blur as they flew past the window and meditated on how he would make Integra's most recent enemy suffer. His musings made the trip seem briefer, though it helped that Walter knew how to break speed limits when the situation called for it. Before long they were climbing down to the twisted pile of metal that was just barely visible from the side of the road. Apparently that no one but Alucard had found the car yet, because the driver was still in place behind the wheel.

_No need to hurry on his account_, thought the vampire as he took in the odor of dead flesh. Not that he cared. To the contrary, it was quite convenient that no one had come yet to collect the corpse and wreckage. It would make the scent of any suspicious humans or midians that much easier to detect. He approached the car and had to close his eyes at the powerful scent of Hellsing blood that still lingered here. With effort he put it from his mind and searched for traces of anything that should not have been there. _Blood, metal, oil, burnt rubber, pine…_ Alucard frowned. Everything seemed to be perfectly normal. No telltale musky scent of vampire or any trace of the chemical odor that surrounded explosives. Perhaps they were cleverer than the usual trash he dealt with; at least it would make the chase more interesting. He turned back the way he had come, leaving Walter to examine the exposed metal underbelly of the car. If someone had tampered with the machine, Walter would know. He would make use of the time to search the area. If anyone had been here recently, it would be a simple matter for him to track them down. He hoped the culprit was just foolish enough to think that they could come here and avoid a bloody death at his hands. He would enjoy proving them wrong.

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An hour later, Alucard had searched everywhere that lay in a quarter-mile radius from the crash, and had still found nothing. Needless to say, he was in a bit of a black mood. The very air seemed to shrink away from him at his passing. The only one who didn't do the sensible thing and get as far away from him as possible was Walter. The butler was sitting on a rock on a hillside when he returned, waiting. The expression on his face was an odd mixture of stoicism and angry amusement that made even the vampire pause.

"What did you find?" he asked.

Walter shrugged. "Nothing."

"Nothing's wrong with the car?"

A harsh bark of laughter startled him. "Oh, plenty of things are wrong with the car. But I didn't find anything suspicious."

Alucard was beginning to get irritated. "I don't understand. What are you saying?"

All at once the life seemed to go out of Walter's face. "Those…those…bloody _idiots_," he hissed, "don't know the first thing about proper maintenance. The tire blew out. That's what caused the accident. But if it wasn't that it would have been something else. Whoever owned this car only cared about how it looked, not well it worked. This wasn't sabotage. It was stupidity."

For some reason he couldn't quite grasp yet, those words only made Alucard feel worse. This was just a mistake? Bad timing? His stomach churned as if it wanted to escape his body. Walter, holding his head in his hands, echoed his astonished thoughts perfectly:

"It was an accident. Just a bloody stupid accident."

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A/N: The second chapter of this mostly written. I assure you that it will be posted eventually, but how quickly depends on how busy I am over the next week. Just be patient please :).


	3. Chapter 2

Diclaimer: Hellsing? Not mine. No, really.

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It had been five days since the accident, and the entire household was tense and nervous. Integra was coming home later today. She would have returned sooner, but no one who knew her had any faith in her ability to rest when in close proximity to work. Even tucked away in a hospital bed and drugged to the gills, she'd made enough of a fuss about the enforced bedrest that the doctors had been calling Walter daily to complain about her temper. Alucard more than half suspected that she was being released today just because no one wanted to argue with her anymore.

Sighing, he reached into his coat pocket and caressed the soft leather glove concealed there. In the past five days he had memorized it, stitch by stitch. There was a rough patch on the palm where blood had dried a rusty brown, startling against the white material. He had found it in the wreckage after Walter's sobering announcement and picked it up without quite knowing why. It had just looked so tiny and lost amidst the remains of the hulking Mercedes. Ever since he had carried it around with him, telling himself that he kept it for the scent of blood that had become ingrained in the leather. It was partially true, anyway.

Alucard found himself set adrift. The entire series of events seemed unreal. He had long ago accepted the fact that he cared deeply for his latest master. He had not, however, quite come to terms with the fact that she could die. His ego let him believe that he could protect her from all enemies, that he would have time, that no human could resist the promise of immortality forever. Part of him still clung to those beliefs, but this accident changed the equation. No matter what they say about gambling, not even the devil can control a roll of the dice. Mortal fears and insecurities preyed on his mind. It was all really very annoying, particularly since he had thought such things left behind with his own mortality.

He had, of course, seen to the Mercedes's negligent mechanic, but it just wasn't the same as taking down a formidable enemy. In fact, it had been pitifully easy. Not slow – but pitifully easy. Integra would likely disapprove of his actions, to say the least, but even if she heard of the man's disappearance there would never be any proof. He had made sure that there was no proof to find, even if it had been tedious for his familiars to track down every little piece of the man's corpse. After that all he could do was wait. Wait for Integra to heal, as he had waited outside the operating room for four hours, as he had waited for her to come to him for over a decade now. A sudden flare of anger coursed through him, driven by frustration and fear, and his grip on the leather glove tightened. In that second, he made a decision: he was tired of waiting.

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The car that pulled up to the front door of the mansion was, ironically, nearly identical to the one which had caused the accident in the first place. There was one important difference, though: Walter was driving. Alucard watched through the window of Integra's office as the butler escorted the woman in question up the driveway. She had refused the arm he'd offered to support her, but he still hovered nearby to open doors and watch for potential hazards. Though his master was always loathe to admit she needed help, Alucard swore he saw an expression of gratitude cross her face when Walter shooed an overeager Seras Victoria back into the house. The girl was acting like a puppy that had been away from its owner for too long, practically bouncing with joy at seeing Integra back on her feet. He had to admit that it warmed his dead heart as well, but unlike Seras, he understood that Integra needed peace and solitude to settle back into life at the mansion. He had no doubt that she would flee the kind attentions of those below for the order of her office as soon as possible.

The creak of the door opening a few minutes later confirmed his suspicions, and he drank in the first sight of her he'd had since before the accident. The only indications that anything was wrong were the scratches and bruising that marred her right cheek. Most of the damage had occurred further down, on her torso, and as such was covered by stiff black fabric. There was a flicker of surprise in her eyes as she spotted him, noticeable only because he was looking for it.

"So you finally decided to grant me the pleasure of your company, did you?" she asked as she hung her jacket on the back of a chair. "I felt you there, sometimes, in the hospital…but I never saw you."

The question was unspoken, but it held a hint of accusation nevertheless.

"I've been…unsettled, these past few days," he offered. Integra arched an eyebrow in disbelief, and he felt the need to elaborate, "You nearly died."

"Yes, I _had_ noticed that," she replied dryly.

That anger surged through him again, red-hot and fuelled by sheer terror. "Don't mock me."

"Then don't be so unreasonable. You and I both know I face death every day of my life."

She was annoyed now, and it showed in the sharpness of her movements as she walked toward the window, past the looming vampire. Still caught in an unreasonable fury, Alucard grabbed at her shoulders and brought her face close to his.

"You cannot _die_!" he snarled. "You're not _allowed_ to die!"

His outburst surprised both of them, and they froze in place. The sudden silence hung heavily in the air for a brief moment before Integra remembered her own anger and moved to jerk away from him.

"I'll make a note of it. Now remove your hands, servant."

He did as she asked, reluctantly. A final glare pierced him before Integra turned and completed her journey to the window. Alucard cursed under his breath, too quietly for her to hear. This was all going wrong. They stood there without speaking for what seemed like a small eternity before he decided to try again.

"I was upset by your injuries…more than I thought I would be," he began in a calmer tone of voice. "I had to think about what my existence would be like without you. It was…unsettling."

"So you've said." Her voice was still cold, but some of the tension seemed to ease out of her at his attempt at an apology. He began moving towards her, taking soft, measured steps.

"You are not a stupid woman," he continued. "You know that I care for you. That I desire you."

Alucard was close enough now to place his hands on her shoulders. Although she did not turn to acknowledge him, neither did she move away. He could feel each breath she took, the sigh that moved through her as she replied, "Yes."

Emboldened, he slipped his arms down around her waist and pressed his cheek against the sweet-smelling softness of her hair.

"You know that I would do anything for you? I would reduce heaven and hell both to ash beneath your boots if you wished it."

Integra smirked. "You would have no choice."

"I would do it regardless. Surely you know _that_ as well."

The humor faded from her face to be replaced by an emotion that had hints of sorrow and resignation in it, though it was not exactly either. A long silence passed before she answered, "I have…suspected it. But…this, between us…it can never happen, Alucard."

"Hmmm," he murmured, drawing her closer. Neither knew how long they stood like that, simply taking comfort in the others' presence, before Alucard broke the silence with a whispered, "Forgive me, master."

Integra didn't even have time to be confused by his words before he was kissing her, kissing her with an ardor she had only ever seen him display towards blood and violence. There was a desperate intensity in the act that seemed designed to draw her very soul up out of her body. She could do nothing in the face of that passion but surrender, revel in the hair that felt like living velvet in her hands, the cool silk of his lips, the taste of blood and smoke and an odd, dark sweetness…

All at once it was over, and she was left with nothing more than the sensation of phantom hands brushing against her body. Gasping, she grabbed onto the corner of her desk to steady herself before collapsing into a chair. As she sat there alone with her head in her hands, she tried not to wonder if the feathery caresses she could still feel on her skin were the shadows of her vampire or the creations of her own neglected heart.

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A/N: Wow, that only took about two weeks longer than I thought it would. I wish I had a decent excuse, but I just haven't felt like writing lately. I do actually have a vague idea for a third chapter in Integra's pov, but who knows if that will ever get finished. At least this chapter has a solid ending if I never get around to writing that. Thanks for reading, everyone.


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Hellsing, Romance