Dying sucked, was the first thing that Hans realized as the draculina walked away from his burning corpse. But, at least he was free, and if the price of freedom was agony and immolation, he would gladly pay it a thousand times over. He wanted to thank her, but he barely knew a lick of English. Not that it mattered. He looked down upon his body, quickly transforming itself into a smattering of ashes against the already blackened floor of the zeppelin's cargo hold.

The translucent blue wolf bounded through the walls of the burning zeppelin, wreathed in a cool blue inferno. Hans wasn't sure what dying was supposed to feel like, but he doubted he was supposed to stick around this long. It hadn't taken him long to figure out he was invisible, even to the acute eyes of a vampire, and, judging by recent experience, he was also intangible. So, with nothing better to do, he trailed his executioner.

He watched as Saras Victoria devastated the major with a long 88. The AT shell tearing a hole through his ex-commander and the zeppelin behind him.

Hans was filled with a strange feeling. Curiosity or want. He wanted to know her better, he wanted to be her friend. Could they have been friends, had he never encountered Zorin and the Major, had they never threatened him and killed his family, had they not drugged him and bound him to their will? Could they have been more?

Then regret. Not the regret he had felt as he was made to butcher people like cattle, this was worse. He would never forget the faces of those he slew, and he'd never get over it. But he had understood that there was nothing he could do, save die. This regret was new, however. It was not his master's decisions he loathed, It was his own.

He thought he had nothing left to live for, his whole family was, most likely, dead. He thought there wasn't anyone alive that he cared for anymore. But now, more than anything, he wanted to stay.

Maybe that's why he was still here? Because he wanted– no, needed to stay alive.

He was enveloped by an invisible net. It tugged at him and pulled him away from his surroundings, filling his peripheries with empty space.

Stirb nicht! Stirb nicht! Stirb nicht! He commanded himself to live.

Surprisingly, the blackness faded.

There was hope.

Then, with a whine of surprise, he was launched backward into the dark. His limbs flailing desperately for purchase, claws extended, ready to pull him back to reality, no matter the cost. But there was nothing to hold onto in this cold, dark, emptiness.

It was stupid to hope. He had learned quickly as a child, growing up in post-war Germany. Then, it had still been called the great war, not World War I. Hope, he learned, lead to disappointment which leads to misery.

The darkness embraced him before he could see Seras take a detour through the ruined zeppelin, leaving a disgruntled and impatient sir Hellsing waiting at the entrance to the cargo hold.

It didn't take her long to find what she was looking for.

"Ve just survived hell's taint and you're worried about a mute, dead Nazi's rags?" Pip chided.

"Somehow, he found happiness in all of this." She replied, gathering the scraps of the greatcoat The captain had once worn. "I think he deserves to be remembered more than the rest of them."

She placed his hat on top of the remains of the coat and began circling what was left of the crushed and burning compartment, looking for his custom-made pistols as well as the silver tooth that had been his downfall.

"Let's go." Sir Integra's sharp command pulled her from her search.

Seras picked up the clothing scraps and dashed over to her commander. "Sorry, Sir."

Integra noticed the folded cloth, raising an eyebrow inquisitively, before deciding not to press the subject. "Come on," she said, flatly, sticking a cigar between her lips, lighting it, and starting the long trek back to headquarters.

Seras followed, leaving the zeppelin to burn itself to the ground, and hugging the newly acquired cloth to her chest while humming a tune that only she could hear.

Hans noticed two things when he awoke. First, he was completely naked. Second, he was alive. Surprising.

Midday sun warmed his chest while cool strands of grass tickled the muscles between his shoulder blades.

He stood up to get his bearings. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves

Oh got.

He had had superhuman senses since he was a child. They had been strengthened again when his lycanthropic side had awoken. But this… There was no comparison.

the scents assaulted his nose and the sounds nearly deafened him.

He could taste ant pheromones, feel them crawl through their tunnels under his feet. He could hear the roaring of an ocean not far off.

The smells of the forest assaulted him, mixing with those of far-off civilization. Dung and blood and soot and oil. It smelled horrible.

The next thing he knew he was curled up in a ball, knees to chest, dry heaving. His stomach trying to flush away pungent flavor.

His ears fared no better. His head throbbing, and ears ringing with roaring waves of pain. He clutched his balled hands over his ears. But, if anything, this just made the noise louder.

He lay there on his side for a few minutes before the soldier in him recovered from the onslaught on his senses.

Fokus.

Slowly, he pulled his hands away from his ears, and, sure enough, the rushing in his ears lessened.

He thought about it for a bit, then understood. He could hear the blood rushing through his own ears. He'd have to work on tuning it out.

Next, he ran through his messy white hair, tussling out stray dirt and blades of grass. He brought his hand to his nose and inhaled slightly. His scent certainly wasn't pleasant, but it was his, and that, at least, was calming.

After taking some time to reassess and refocus, he sat up and gave his surroundings a cursory examination.

He was in a grassy clearing dotted with clovers. Surrounding him on all sides was a dense forest, he could hear the heartbeat of a rabbit about forty meters behind him and the bussing of insect wings all around him.

He could hear the noises of a highway, they were distant, maybe five kilometers. Time to find out where, exactly, he was.

A swirl of mist later and he was in he was replaced with a giant white-furred wolf. He was noticeably bigger than before, each of his long fangs the size of a grown man's forearm.

The highway turned out to a lot farther than he'd originally expected. He'd have to get used to his new hearing.

Luckily, he was much faster than before as well, he made the fifty-kilometer trek to the end of the woods in about three minutes and followed the highway to the nearest town.

The first thing he needed was clothing then, information. But, stealing was easier at night. So, he curled up, laying his head between his forepaws, and slept, trying his best to accommodate for his newly heightened senses. It was past midnight when he awoke and made his way into town.

Stealing clothes was easy, he had lifetimes of training as a soldier and superhuman senses. He made off with a white, sleeveless, shirt, and long khaki pants from a clothesline strung between apartment buildings.

He got stole yesterday's paper from a garbage disposal, he couldn't read much English, but the date was easy enough. October 4th. Two and a half months since the attack on London.

For the most part, the streets were empty. He passed a few men hugging each other in the streets, their cheeks reddened from drinking. They were sharing stories of their time during the Millenium attack. They stopped talking and eyed him suspiciously as he passed, only resuming their conversation after they thought he was out of earshot. Hans didn't care much for their conversation, but, with nothing better, to do he eavesdropped. None of them lived in London, but one had family there, He kept thanking his astounding luck that they had taken that week to drive up and visit him.

At this time of night few stores were open. After a few minutes of wandering, he found a convenience store with its lights on. The store was filled with the soft jingle of bells as he pushed the door open.

He found what he was looking for almost instantly. He pulled the map from its stand and walked back towards the door.

A tired looking store clerk, who could easily have passed for a high school student, fixed her glasses and straightened her shirt before rushing around the counter to stop him.

"Hey!" She shouted, planting herself between the newcomer and his exit.

His attention immediately snapped to her, his blue eyes immediately fixed to her brown ones. Surprisingly, she didn't balk at the seven-foot German trying to stare her down.

"Are you going to pay for that?" She asked a slight waver in her voice.

Solemnly, maintaining his expressionless face, he shook his head.

"Oh." She seemed a bit surprised by his response, expecting him to be taken aback that he had been caught shoplifting.

He took a step towards the door, and she backed up, spreading her arms out on either side of her to more fully block his way. She met his gaze with a surprising amount of resolve considering that all he was stealing was a map.

He let out a deep sigh, and opened the map, committing it to memory, before returning it to its the stand where he had snagged it. He only really cared about one road anyway, the one he would need to follow to get back to London.

Turning back to the woman, he raised an eyebrow expectantly, the rest of his face remaining a scowling mask.

This time, she moved from the door, letting him back into the cool night air.

Getting into London proved more difficult than he had originally expected. The military had set up a perimeter around the city and checkpoints at each road, the city itself was still swarming with military personnel and relief workers, and everyone was still on edge, people were being pulled over and searched based purely on suspicion. A seven-foot German who barely spoke English would have a tough time getting in legally, and he couldn't chance any lingering Iscariot or Hellsing forces recognizing him.

It was too bright. He slept through most of the day and, come nightfall, the road into the city on the bottom of a relief truck. He maintained his human form as much as possible, –the wolf would be far too big– with the exception of his hands, replacing each nail with a long, razor-sharp, claw. His claws had no problems biting into the metal on the bottom of the vehicle.

The smell of the exhaust and noise of the engine threw him for a loop though. He extricated himself from the vehicle as soon as it came to a stop. He ducked into the shadow of a nearby building.

Light, music, and bubbling laughter poured out of the wall behind him, as well as the distinct scents of liquor. A bar, well maybe he could wash out the taste of combustion engine with some good quality beer.

He would worry about money later, right now he needed to drink something that didn't remind him of a gas station pump. And so, he pushed his way into the bar. And stopped.

The bar was full to the brim, tables occupied by Londoners eating, drinking and joking. But, that wasn't what stopped him. There was a group of five men sitting on barstools and chatting with the bartender. They wore similar greens to the Frenchman he'd fought in the zeppelin, and a Hellsing insignia adorned their shoulder. One of the only free seats was next to them. On one hand, he could be found out, on the other, food.

The rumbling in his stomach made the decision for him. He took the seat next to them and eyed the group wearily. To Hans' left sat an older man, built like a tank, he was large, and covered in muscle. Anywhere else, he would have made a terrifying bouncer or enforcer. The man was rambling on about Nazis and Germans to whoever would listen.

Hans tuned him out quickly.

Colin was new to the Wild Geese, some of the surviving members had picked him out after London. He'd been living in England for a while now, training at a German military base, but he still had a faint yet unmistakable German accent. And he was the youngest member of the Wild Geese.

When his senior, Benji had learned it that today was his nineteenth birthday, he'd insisted on pulling him and some of the other new recruits to a newly repaired bar in the heart of London for a few drinks.

And so, he found himself sitting in on wooden bar stools drinking vodka and listening to Benji's stories about Nazi vampires.

He barely noticed the giant, white-haired man take a seat next to him. Benji, however, tensed and nudged his foot.

"Ze man on your left," Benji whispered to him.

"What about him?"

"He's a soldier, and he isn't happy to see us."

Colin turned his head a fraction of a centimeter to get a better look at the man. Benji was right, the man's face was completely expressionless, a scowling mask. But that in and of itself was enough. He was tense, every muscle along his well-defined arms at the ready.

When the bartender came over to him, he pointed at a bottle of beer which was quickly retrieved.

Between sips, he'd shoot them sidelong glances, as if he half expected them to fly at him. Why on earth they would do such a thing was lost on colin. After he seemed content he would not draw their wroth, he returned his focus to his beer.

Just in time too, the bartender handed Colin a plate his plate of food, Steak, and potatoes. It smelled delicious.

"Dankeschön," Colin said, jokingly to the bartender.

The next few seconds were a flash.

"Bloody fucking Germans" he heard.

Then the man on the other side of the white-haired giant was rushing him, knife in hand. He was very fast, especially for someone who weighed at least three hundred pounds.

In any other situation, any one of the Wild Geese could have held their own. But they were all very drunk, and the other man had the element of surprise.

Benji was quick, but the white-haired giant was quicker.

He wrapped his huge right hand around the attacker's wrist, slamming it into the countertop with a crunch. He freed the knife, taking it into his left hand. Then he moved behind the assailant, using one of his long legs to sandwich the injured wrist between the wooden counter and his bare foot.

His free hand grabbed a fistful of the other man's brown hair and pulled, forcing his gaze skyward. Then, his left hand plummeted, the point of the knife stopping an inch or two over their attacker's terrified eye.

By then, Benji had managed to make it to his feet, cursing under his breath.

"Please…" was all the poor bastard was able to get out.

The white-haired man growled at him and flicked his wrist, sending the knife flying into a support beam above their heads, releasing the other man's wrist simultaneously. It was already swollen and starting to purple.

The hand in his hair did not release, however. Instead, he was dragged, screaming and clutching the top of his head, to the door and tossed out.

When the man returned to them, he reached up and pulled the knife out of the ceiling, handing it to the bartender.

Benji was the first to speak.

"Fuck me… thanks."

The man ignored him, finishing off his beer.

Colin was the next to speak.

"Is there anything we could do to repay you? I would've gotten a nasty scar otherwise."

That got a reaction. He pointed to his beer than to Colin's plate.

"I think he wants us to pick up his tab" another recruit, Jonas, voiced.

Benji chuckled, "of course he does." he turned to the bartender, "his drinks are on us tonight, and get him a plate of whatever Colin ordered."

The man shook his head and held up two fingers.

"Two plates" Benji amended.

As they waited for their food, the rest of the Wild Geese, James, Jonas, Benji, Lee, and Colin, introduced themselves.

He barely reacted to them, giving each a glance with his intensely blue eyes.

"What's your name?" Benji inquired.

No response.

"Are you mute?"

No response.

"I'm gonna take zat as a yes. Where did you learn to fight?"

No response.

Benji ruffled through his bag and pulled out a sheet of paper, scribbling down an address.

"You're new around here, you don't have much money and you're skill set would lend itself well to our profession," Benji stated. "The Wild Geese could use more members."

Benji offered him a blank piece of paper, "Put your contact information on here, we'll find you from there."

The man took the paper and wrote one thing on it. Hans Günshe.

Benji took the piece of paper back, trading it for his, and raised an eyebrow.

"German... And no telephone, you're become more mysterious by the second." He pointed at the second piece. "Go to that address tomorrow after nightfall, and I'll have Colin introduce you to our captain."

Further discussion was interrupted by the arrival of food. Colin had never seen anyone wolf down so much so quickly.

"Where are you staying tonight?" He asked.

Hans shrugged.

"Well then," Benji joked, "maybe we should have you meet the captain tonight, then, at least, you won't get lost finding the way"

To their surprise, Hans nodded in agreement.

Hans waited outside a set of wooden for the boy named Colin. He could smell five bodies in the room, Benji, and the vampire stood at the far end, while Colin stood a respectful distance away. Two further door guards stood at the door frame.

He could hear Benji, bickering with two other voices. One was male, probably the Frenchman, and the other was female, the vampire.

"Hans" the Frenchman began "sounds German."

"So what if he is? Benji says he's a qualified fighter." the vampire responded.

"He's German"

"What made you hate Germans all of a sudden?"

"Millenium did"

"You hired Colin"

"Benji hired Colin" the Frenchman clarified.

"You're being childish, not all Germans are Nazis" the vampire sighed.

It was at this moment that Hans decided to push open the doors.

The vampire turned to him and went slack-jawed. Her pupils constricting with shock and fear. A younger, more naive Hans would probably have laughed at the sight.

The Frenchman was faster to react.

"Zat one is," he said before extending her shadow around Benji's sidearm, ripping it free.

In retrospect, he probably should have started with his hands in the air.

The shadow didn't stop firing until the clip of the pistol had been completely emptied. The first two shots found homes in his forehead and between his eyes. The rest spread evenly around his chest, arms, and legs.

When the pistol finally fell silent, he stood riddled with bullet hands above his head.

The shadow rushed him anyway, lancing into his chest from three separate directions.

"A good dog knows when to stay down" the Frenchman whispered into his ears.

"Dann lerne härter zuzuschlagen Du baguette-fressender Kapitulationsaffe." He snarled back.

The room fell silent.

"You can talk?" the voices of Benji, Colin, and the vampire rang out.

"Pip put him down," the vampire added.

He felt the shadow retract from him, reluctantly. As soon as the presence was gone, white mist filled the wounds, closing them instantly.

Benji and Colin looked to the vampire for an explanation, both their guns leveled at him.

"Werewolf," she said through strained lips.

Hans wracked his brain, trying to remember all the English he knew.

"I do not vant to fight."

The vampire looked at him, flabbergasted.

"So what, you're here to join Hellsing?" Pip's sarcastic voice rang out.

He shrugged and nodded. "I vas offered… employment."

"That was before we knew who you were" Benji grimaced, not taking his eyes off Hans for a second.

"Why should we let the former captain of Millenium work for us?"

"Verewolf… keep your enemies close."

"Are you our enemy?" The vampire interjected.

"I don't vant to be."

He heard a sigh from the girl. "Sir Integra won't like this."

"You're seriously considering this?" Benji and Pip practically shouted.

But she was already on her way out.

"Vait."

She turned around, completely composed. Her eyes a blood red, her face an expressionless scowl, she looked about ready to take his head off.

"What?"

"Vat is your name?"

Her face softened slightly, brows furrowing. "Seras."

"Thank you."

When she wasn't actively trying to kill him, he realized, she was actually quite pretty.

She walked briskly to Integra's office. Benji had walked with her for a bit but ended up turning around shouting into the radio at his breast while gripping his gun so hard his knuckles went white.

All the while Pip kept trying to dissuade her, tell her to chop his head off or impale him, among other things.

She was glad that Pip had decided he wanted to vet all the recruits personally. Benji wanted to hire him on the spot, and running into him in Wild Geese colors during her day to day, or during a mission would have ended very poorly.

For the most part, she turned him out. Her thoughts were elsewhere; specifically on the werewolf, they had just left behind.

She hadn't sensed him till he was looking her dead in the face, and that scared her. He scared her. But, at the same time he didn't.

He was strong, terrifyingly so. When he fixed her with that intense blue-eyed stare it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. And when he spoke, his voice deep, his accent heavy, chills ran down her spine.

And his scent. Oh god, his scent. When his blood spilled on the floor she thought she'd never smelled anything so divine. It took all of her willpower not to push him to the floor and sink her fangs into his neck.

He'd probably have broken her jaw if she tried that... Or worse.

But the way he looked at her was so new to her. He didn't scan her like some piece of meat, or lust over her the moment he laid eyes on her. When he looked at her there was acknowledgment and respect. He still saw the fighter that had torn his heart from his chest and crushed it before his eyes.

Before she knew it, they were at the door to Sir Integra's office. She quickly hushed Pip and knocked twice.

"Come in." Sir Integra's voice was muffled through the heavy door.

Seras pushed it open with ease.

"Sir, there's something I think you should see."

Integra sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of her nose, adjusting her glasses.

"Fine, lead the way."

Although the older woman tried to hide it, Seras knew that losing Alucard had taken its toll on her. Nowadays, she tried her best to avoid disturbing Integra's work, but this was important.

So important in fact that Sears practically dragged Integra back to the common room.

Inside she found that the Wild Geese had spread themselves out on their half of the room. All of the members, including the recruits, had guns trained on Hans, who stood in the center of the room hands over his head, still.

As soon as she saw him Integra inhaled sharply and reached for her pistol. It was the biggest show of surprise that Seras had ever seen from her.

"Wait!" she cried.

Integra's pistol stopped, aimed at Hans' forehead.

"He's surrendering," Seras said, her tone softer, and more controlled.

Integra paused, glancing sidelong at Seras. Her vampire shot her a pleading look, red eyes wide. Integra let out a long sigh. "Fine."

"You can put your hands down, we know it's a farce anyway" Integra shouted to him.

Hans' face remained an emotionless mask, but he lowered his hands to his sides.

Seras got her first good look at him then. He was wearing a white sleeveless t-shirt and long khaki pants, no shoes or hat or anything else on his person.

He was tall and sinewy, each of his muscles well defined against the skin that stretched over them. Lanky was not a word she'd use. His biceps were full and defined. His shoulders were wide and strong and rippled when he lowered his arms. His abs and chest peaked out through the holes the bullets had torn when Pip had shot him, and why on earth was her face so warm.

She'd torn his shirt up the first time they fought, but this was somehow different, more intimate. She focused herself on his face before her eyes could wander any lower. It was a mask, as usual, but, with her heightened senses, she could detect the change in his heartbeat and breathing, as well as the imperceptible muscle tics that gave away his true emotions. He was nodding at something Integra had said. He was relieved.

For some reason, she felt way smugger than she should have, knowing that she was the only one in the room who had a chance at reading him.

"Seras!" Integra's voice tore her from her thoughts. She straightened instantly.

"Yes, Sir?" She replied meekly.

"Do you trust him?"

Seras thought for a moment before responding. "He's not as sly as the major was, he's an attack dog." She saw the muscles tense around his neck and heard his breathing slow in an attempt to calm himself. Oh, he didn't like that.

Integra looked at her. "Your point, Seras?"

"He's direct, if he wanted to attack us, I think he already would have."

"How do you know he doesn't just want to kill us in our sleep?" one of the Wild Geese asked.

To everyone's surprise, Hans answered that question.

"Ich bin nicht Zorin, ich greife nicht auf Gedankenspiele zurück."

He looked to Colin for help.

"I'm not Zorin, I don't resort to mind games," Colin translated.

Hans continued in his broken English. "If I vanted to hurt you, you vould know."

Pip perked up at Colin's translation. "I forgot you knew German, what did the Captain say to me earlier?"

Colin sighed heavily and translated. "Then learn to hit harder you baguette munching surrender-monkey."

Seras gawked at Hans for the second time. Apparently, he's not as chivalrous as I thought. The werewolf for his part was doing an excellent job fighting the smirk threatening to curl the corners of his mouth. But Seras could see just how smug he actually was.

Some of the Wild Geese chuckled at the creative choice of insult. But they were quickly hushed by their seniors.

She could feel Pip seething in her shadow, but she held him back. No need to start a second fight.

"Calm down Pip" she soothed.

"Why? He's a dumb mutt who needs to be taught his place."

"You shot and stabbed him."

"I'll let it slide, only for you mon cher"

"Thank you"

Integra's command once again brought her back to the real world. "You're in charge of the mutt, you'll take him everywhere with you, including missions, and while he's here he'll be the acting butler until I can find a replacement. Is that suitable for you two?"

"Yes, Sir!" Seras answered.

Hans nodded.

With a wave of her hand, Integra dispersed the Wild Geese.

"Show him to his room," Integra said, turning on her heel and walking out, long hair flowing behind her.

"Follow me," Seras curtly motioned to Hans.

Without a word, he obeyed.

They walked the first few steps in silence, but, after a bit, maybe because she was bored or because the silence was awkward, or maybe it was because she wanted to hear his voice again, feel his heartbeat skyrocket, or imagine the ghosts of smiles tugging at his lips, or maybe she just wanted to try out his name, she broke the silence.

"Welcome to Hellsing, Hans" She whispered under her breath.

At first, she was both relieved and worried. Had he not heard her?

Then, equally quietly, he responded.

"Dankeschön, Seras."

She knew enough German to understand that sentence and it was making her feel very warm inside, and her heart was practically beating out of her chest, and the warmth spread through her from her core, out to her fingertips, and it felt so good to hear him say her name, and…

Shit.

This was very very bad.

Hans remained a respectful distance from his supervisor as their trek through the corridors of the Hellsing mansion began.

He'd noticed her watching him, eyeing every muscle, making sure he posed no threat to the rest of the officers. Her attention to him had been uncanny, unsettling, but not entirely unwelcome. Vampiric senses were like that, sharp and precise. Unless she was eyeing him for other reasons.

He quickly shook the thought out of his head, it was impossible, wishful thinking at best, there was absolutely no way she—

"Welcome to Hellsing, Hans," it was quiet as a whisper, shared only between the two of them.

He was stunned. His heart was doing somersaults in his chest and every muscle in his body was contracting simultaneously. He decided that he liked his name a lot more when she said it.

He was really hoping his accent didn't botch hers.

"Dankeschön, Seras."

She straightened slightly, and her shoulders relaxed, but she gave no other indication that she heard him.

He was lost in thought the rest of the way to the basement. So much so, that he almost followed her directly into her room. Luckily he stopped himself at the door frame.

"You can have any room except that one," She gestured at a wooden door down the hall. "That's mast–Alucard's room."

He gave her a deadpan expression and nodded. He had picked up on the scent almost instantly. It disgusted him and put him on edge. But, now wasn't the time to bring up old conflicts.

If Seras noticed his aversion to her master, she hid it well.

"I need a long day's sleep, so I'll see ya tomorrow."

He nodded again and retreated to the room opposite hers. He heard her door shut behind him.

He stripped quickly and allowed himself to crash into the couch. He hadn't realized how tired he was.

Seras didn't hate him and that was nice.

He allowed himself half a smile as he drifted off to sleep.

Hello readers! You've reached the end of chapter one of Getting Hansy. I do hope you enjoyed.

Translations (the ones that weren't explicit in the story or weren't self explanatory):

Stirb nicht: Don't die.

Dankeschön: Thank you or thank you very much.

Please consider leaving a review and let me know what you want to see out of this story! Or alternatively tell me my writing is garbage!

The next chapter should be up in a few weeks.

A bit of a warning though, the hans x seras romance will be slow burn, it will happen and eventually there might be smut (imma leave this up to you guys, if you don't want smut I won't write it, otherwise I'll make a chapter for it instead of just implying).