Disclaimer: the rights to the anime series Hellsing are owned by Studio Gonzo animation and Pioneer LDC… and maybe some other people, I'm not sure.  Point is – I don't own the rights, I'll wipe this story off the web if they want me to, and I really, really don't want to be sued.  Thanks.

Drop

By Random1377

I've been in some tight spots before, I don't mind saying.  There was the first time I encountered the Vatican's main nightstalker – Alexander Anderson – and he buried a knife in my throat.  Then there was the time the Valentine Brothers stormed the Hellsing mansion, laying waste to everyone and everything in their path and forcing me to fight the very people I used to work with.

I've probably been in a dozen or so other scrapes, and yet, here I am, still alive.

Or rather – still undead.

"Pick it up, girl," my commanding officer, a man named Stevens, shouts, "I thought you were supposed to be able to go all night?"

"Yes sir," I reply, forcing my legs to work a bit harder as we run down the darkened street towards the apartment complex designated simply: Target 5.

I miss Fergusson.  He would have understood why I was fatigued.  He would have felt the same as I feel.  He would never have allowed his huger to overwhelm him and force him to drink real, living human blood.  One drop is all it takes to step over the line and completely shed ones humanity.

Sixteen years.  It's been sixteen years since I allowed myself to become what I am, and not a day goes by that I don't question that choice.  On the one hand, by letting myself get shot through the chest I helped destroy a vampire that was threatening England and had killed my squad.  On the other hand, I'm now forced to live with the constant, gnawing hunger for blood – the hunger that not even the medical blood that I am supplied with can quite slake.

The hunger weakens me.  The hunger slows me.  The hunger… claws at me, but I have been able to hold out this long.  I am strong now.  I am no longer the kitten.

Now I am the tiger.

"Hey, girl," Stevens shouts, "I said pick it up!"

Yes, I really miss Fergusson.

"Ok," Stevens says briskly, bringing the platoon to a halt, "I know you're all tired…" he pauses, "except maybe the dead girl, and I know we're far from home, but we've got solid reports of vampire activity in Target 5.  If we clean it up, report back, and get our gear stored by oh-seven-hundred – I'll buy the drinks…" he grins, "and the girls.  Now let's do this."

I begin to move forward, but Stevens holds my shoulder.  "Sir?" I ask coolly.

"Don't think we'll need you," he says calmly, "cover the exits."

"Sir, I-"

"Seras."

"Sir."

Stevens smiles, and for the first time in the five weeks we've worked together, it feels sincere.  "You know I love you, right?"  When I just stare at him, dumbfounded, he laughs.  "You look like you've been doing too much, Seras," he says quietly, putting his hand on my shoulder.  "I know I give you a hard time, but really – you're still one of mine.  Take better care of yourself, ok?  Besides," he drops me a wink and starts off towards the warehouse, "I'd catch hell from the higher-ups if I got their pet vampire more dead than she already is."

It's kind of hard for a vampire to blush – especially if we're not eating like we should – but I think his frank commentary managed to get my cheeks at least pink.  Had I been feeling stronger, I might have argued his orders and gone in anyway.  But then… had I been stronger, he might not have had to issue them in the first place.

So I wait.  And I think of how much I dislike this city.  It's all steel and glass, and bad connotations.  Everyone in the world knows what's happening here – and that's just one of the reasons Hellsing decided to step in, even though this is a little outside of our normal territory.

But I'm a soldier, so I follow my orders and try not to complain.

I miss Walter, too, I think suddenly, I'll bet he would… wait… I narrowed my eyes as a hint of movement caught them.

I've never been one to believe in fate.  I just wasn't brought up to be like that, you know?  The idea that some mysterious force in the universe controls all of your actions seems offensive to me.  But I don't know what else I should call seeing a young boy in black slacks and a white button up shirt wandering down the street in my direction.  I'm immediately tense.  It's after eleven, on a school night, in an industrial district in urban Japan.  What's a junior-high student doing up at this hour, let alone in this neighborhood?

I press my hand to my ear, pushing my headset closer and whisper, "Stevens… I have an uninvited guest.  Not sure yet if he's a threat.  Looks too coherent to be a ghoul.  Orders?"

"Damn it," Stevens mutters, "we're pretty deep in, Seras, we can't just pull back."  He sighs.  "Ok," he says after a short pause, "intercept and ascertain.  If he's hostile… take care of it.  If he's not, make sure he understands this isn't a part of town to be running around in at this time of night and send him home.  If things heat up here, I don't want civilians nearby.  Out."

I step back into the shadows, slowing my breathing as I wait for the boy to get closer.  He doesn't smell unclean, so hopefully I won't have to 'take care of it,' as Stevens put it.  As he draws alongside me, I whisper, "Nice night."

The boy jumps, looking around wildly until he catches sight of me. "Ummm… yeah," he murmurs, shoving his hands into his pockets.  "I guess so."

I study him carefully, taking in his dark brown hair and storm-blue eyes.  "Kinda late to be out alone, isn't it?  This isn't a good part of town… kid could get hurt, you know?"

He fidgets with the change in his pocket for a moment, looking very uncomfortable.  The way I figure it, I pretend to be a local thug, or maybe a gang lookout, hint that he should maybe head home, and he runs away with his tail between his legs.  No harm, no foul.

"People look out for me," the boy mutters, sounding rather dejected.  "I'll be ok, officer."

I blink, then realize that a shaft of light from one of the streetlamps is falling on the shoulder of my uniform, revealing the Hellsing insignia.  So much for subtlety, I think, angry with myself for being so careless, I guess it's time to feed again…

I space out my feedings as far as I can – until my body absolutely demands sustenance.  It's just one more pathetic attempt to hold onto my lost humanity.

"It's late," I repeat bluntly, "you should go home."

The boy lowers his eyes obediently, and I can see that he is used to being ordered around.  "Yes, ma'am," he replies, bowing politely, "have, ummm… a nice evening…"

I'm just about to nod when I notice something that I should have spotted when the boy was still a block away.  He's being tailed – and rather effectively, I might add.  I narrow my eyes, glancing back into the darkness and picking out three, rather rough looking men in black suits.

"Hang on a sec," I call as he turns away, trying to watch all three men as they, in turn, watch me.

"Yes, officer?" the boy answers uncertainly.

They're watching me, I tell myself, feeling rather confused, watching me watching him.  Are they… bodyguards?

"Who are you?"

I want to go back to the topic of blushing for a moment, and comment that it's something that people take for granted.  When you subsist off of blood, you don't have a lot of extra, if you know what I mean, so something like blushing is a waste of… well… food.  So it is that I'm always a little envious when people blush.

The boy looks surprised at my question, but again, his obedient nature takes over and he draws in a breath to reply.

And the world explodes around us.

I feel it before I hear it: a sudden, violent change in the air pressure around us, followed immediately by a dull 'whump,' a rush of hot air, and whistling, jagged pieces of steel.  I react, trying to interpose my body between the blast (which can only be the warehouse) and the boy, all of my training as an officer screaming protect!

I almost succeed.

Being undead, unfortunately, does not free you from pain.  Certainly, it deadens – if you'll pardon the expression – the sensation, but we still feel it.  So I can't really help crying out when a score of miscellaneous chunks of debris pierce my back.  Nor can I truly contain a groan as, a moment later, I shake my head to clear it and find the boy lying on the ground under me, a small piece of steel embedded in his shoulder.

"It's… not bad," he gasps, putting his hand over the piece and yanking it free before I can tell him not to.

"Should have… left it in…" I cough, forcing myself to my knees, "could… be deep…"  I touch the wound carefully, "might… bleed to death…"

The boy shakes his head.  "It's not that deep," he replies, carefully rising to his feet and offering me a hand up.  "We should… get out of here," he gasps, looking far better than I do.

I nod, wondering what he would say if he could see my back, and take his hand.  "Stevens?" I mutter into my mouthpiece, hoping that the thing might somehow still work… and that Stevens was alive to answer.

Again… the topic of fate crosses my mind.

A secondary explosion, three times the strength of the first, rocks the street, throwing us both off balance and back to the ground.  I land on my back.  Pain erupts into agony as the shards of steel and concrete are forced deeper into me.  The boy falls on top of me, catching himself with his hands before he can fall on me… and time… stops…

Everything comes into focus for me.  I can see the look of pain on his face, his blue eyes clenching closed as his palms are abraded by the asphalt.  I feel his pulse racing through his veins, the sensation conveyed to me from the point where his knee is touching my hip.  I can… smell the blood from his open wound – impossibly situated directly over my open, gasping lips.  I can hear the voice of my master in my mind, telling me, "You must feed regularly… or you will grow feeble and infirm.  When you take in fresh blood… oh, my little one – you will know what it is to walk the night!"

And I can actually taste the single, perfectly spherical drop of crimson blood before it falls from his shoulder onto my tongue.

I am lost.

His eyes open.  "What was… that?" he manages.

I hardly hear him.  All of my senses have come to life, and there is a terrible rushing sound in my ears.  I honestly do not know how, but now I am on him, pinning him to the street as a sound unlike any I have ever made before comes from my throat.

My mouth is on his shoulder, and I am sucking… slurping… taking everything I can get from his small body, feeling drunk as the liquid passes over my taste buds and burns down my throat.  I cannot stop.  I am not even capable of conceiving such an idea.  It's all I can do not to bring my teeth to bear – to open the wound further and gather more of this delicious ambrosia.

I recall, oddly, the words of Mister Anders – an agent for MI-5, now long since deceased.

"Have you ever known a man's touch?"

I have not.  Before my death, no one had ever given me more than a light kiss or hug… and I don't know if it is the feeling of losing one's life that prompts it, but suddenly I can feel the boy's fingertips on the back of my neck.  Caressing… brushing… reassuring… forgiving.

He cradles my head tenderly in his hands, as if to say, 'Take what you want… I don't need it anymore.'

I start to cry.

I haven't cried for years.  I was starting to wonder if I could cry anymore, but I could feel two drops of blood, running slowly from my eyes down my cheeks.  I don't know if I'm crying for what I've done to this boy, or for that last little shred of humanity I was holding on to, because now – I truly am nosferatu.

Slowly, I stop drawing his blood… but I find myself unable to pull back – even as his hands go slack and fall at his sides.  Gently, I run my tongue over the wound, feeling the flow slowing and finally stopping, disgust filling me at my own weakness even as I savor every bit of it.

"Is it good, policewoman?"

My head snaps up.  "M-master?"

He stands over me, his orange glasses glittering in the moonlight.  "Is it good?" he repeats, his voice all silk and amusement as he crouches over us.  "Can you feel it?"

I avert my eyes.

I can feel it.

It spreads out from the pit of my stomach – a rich, glowing sensation flooding my veins and taking me to a place I never knew existed.  I can feel the bits of debris working free of my body as muscle and skin re-knit themselves, and my sense of smell has become so acute that I can smell the C-4 that was planted in the warehouse… as well as the dead bodies of my entire team.

"It was a trap…" I whisper, looking down at the boy's now-pale features.

"Those responsible will pay," my master promises, watching me closely with a small smile.  "Are you ready to see that happen?"

I slowly stand, nodding absently.  "What… what about him?" I ask, my hand falling instinctively to my sidearm.

My master's smile broadens.  "Him?" he asks quietly.  "He is lucky.  Since you did not bite him, and your blood did not enter his veins… he will remain as he is."  A light I do not like in the slightest fills his vermillion eyes as he adds, "Though I must admit I would find it very amusing to see what his father would think of finding out that his son had new… requirements for his upkeep.  Ahh well… let us go, policewoman."

Taking a final glance down at the boy's face, I frown.  "He looks… peaceful," I whisper.

My master shrugs.  "There is a bond between a victim and his prey," he says quietly, "he knows, deep inside, that he served his purpose in feeding you."

I look away, not quite able to believe him.  "Yes… master…"

Together, we slip into the night, intent on finding the creatures responsible for Stevens and the rest, but I pause, looking back at the boy for a long, long moment.  Not truly knowing why, or maybe knowing and not wanting to admit it to myself, I whisper the only words I can think.

"Thank you."

Then I turn away, and embrace the night.

The End

Author's Notes: ok, I still have 4 episodes of Hellsing to go, so in case anyone mentioned doesn't make it… oops. :P  I guess there's not too much to note beyond that, other than the city and the boy – but those should be pretty obvious, if you look up my profile on ff.net.  I had a pretty good time writing this, and I hope I managed to catch Seras's turmoil over finally, inadvertently, taking the last step away from humanity.  But I guess that's for you to judge.

LeperMessiah pre-read and helped out with some flow issues and lines, soooo… thanks! :P

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