Wow...HELLSING ONE-SHOT!!! Yay me! I hope this came out IC...I've never actually seen all of Hellsing...only the first epi. But I think it's ok, for my first try. Please review!
She said she loathed them.
His belief in her words varied depending on what type of trouble she got herself into…
And her inward gratitude to him after he got her out.
He called her "Master".
She called him "Monster".
He shrugged it off.
She did not.
Because that's what he was. A demon. A creature from the very depths of hell. A despondent, desolate, immortal being with not a care in the world.
And all this was said in one cocky smile.
Because she was not his master, really. Only playing the role for her life, drop in a bucket that it was. This…being was not bound the way she would have, if she could have it. If she were his master, he would be locked, caged into a realm that not even he could escape.
Because that's just how she was.
Although, knowing him, he'd probably enjoy it.
Which would destroy her.
Those gleaming fangs…under her control…she would shiver late at night, knowing he was up and she was not. Knowing not what he did while she slept. But when she awoke the next day to find the sun shining in such a way that he could not appear until the fall of evening, she shivered.
For a different reason altogether.
However, demon that he was, able to appear and disappear at will, he would still take to walking to his basement room. To his lair, where he would stay until the eve.
When she dared herself to venture down to his door during the day, her anger would grow at these inhuman dirt bags. Miniscule droplets of blood trailing out along the hardwood floor and under his heavy door.
No doubt lingering there from the dripping corners of his mouth.
Messy. Inconsiderate. Pompous. SCUM.
Her mind became livid with the colorful names she would think up for him during the relief of her day. Though paperwork wasn't her favorite form of relief. And she would wonder about him, subconsciously. Things she longed to ask, but could not in fear of his answers or his jaunty arrogance firing her up to the point where her tongue would slip with words unspoken.
Thus, they should remain so until the end of time.
Subjects she wished to touch on someday included things about his nature. Those like him surely possessed some of the same inhuman traits, right? But did they retain any of their human abilities after death?
Could they dream? If so, what did those of his race dream of? Was it as humans, with dreams of silliness and petty antics, of nightmares and some of everyday occurrences? Or was it of the stench of human blood that made her hate them all so? Did they dream of the kill, of the taste of blood on their pearly fangs? Did they have the eternal need to see a human grow limp in their arms until all was lost?
Or were their existences so cold and unforgiving that sleep was merely a means to escape the killing sun?
Did food turn to ash in their mouths, the way she had always heard but never truly asked? Or was it that they did not eat for pleasure simply because it was a waste, and was not of the human flesh they all craved?
As the day lingered on, she raved and cursed at all of his kind, but mentally damned him especially back to whence he came. Unfortunately, he was the only one with whom the power of Hellsing truly lay, in terms of disposing of the enemy.
However, degrading as it was, she had one more question she craved to ask of him. It's what made her so unforgiving. So cold and cruel to him, even though he was just another one of them.
And as the day grew weary, sky dulling into a symphony of blues, she would feel his chill on her face and in her spine, as he would slowly slide up from the pit of the building though the thick layered floor and into her office, his wide brimmed hat sitting cockily atop raven locks that had a mind of their own. His red frock would always return redder the morning after, but suspiciously was unstained the following night. His gloved hands folded across his chest after a mocking sort of bow, hands gripping elbows in a straitjacket-like restraint. His body was still, unlike hers, which had to fight against the effort to hold her breath and suffocate at the mere sight of his unearthly presence.
"Master", he greeted, a grin on his pallid face. A fang hung out over his bottom lip, and when she had first seen him like this, it almost made her laugh at his casual, kitten like appearance.
Though of course, said "kitten like" appearance could do her in with a single bullet.
Perhaps less.
Now she resisted the urge for her blue eyes to slide down to that fang and linger on the lips it rested on, as she locked her gaze with his. His gaze, however, had just recently returned from staring blatantly at her neck. With him as he was, she would never be free of his need for blood.
Her blood.
But still that one question bothered her constantly, as he went about his business and she hers.
She never was able to get past that foreboding glint of amber lenses betwixt her and crimson eyes.
Somehow, late at night, she wondered if she already knew the answer. She would drift to sleep night after night, with the same scenario drifting through her thoughts and giving her a gentle grin.
"Alucard?"
"Yes, Master?"
"Can you love?"
"…Would you like to find out?"