Eins zwei drei vier, Chapter 10 (Hellsing)
Some time ago, clockwork_uriel wrote a fic about Rip van Winkle. She wasn't really happy with the ending, so I offered to write the last chapter for her. And then the last chapter took a sudden sharp turn to the left, and there seems to be another story lurking in there now. But, for what it's worth, here's chapter 10. I hope you like it, love.
Chapter 10: Deliver Me
All of my life, I was in hiding, wishing there was
someone just like you. Now that you’re here,
now that I’ve found you,
I know you’ll be the one to see me through.
The city was beautiful, more beautiful than she had ever imagined. She spent several days just walking through the streets, looking at everything, taking it all in. There was so much to see; she could spend weeks just visiting galleries and museums and churches. And the people! It was marvelously freeing, surrounded by dozens and hundreds of people whom she did not know, to whom she owed nothing. Faces and voices, dozens of languages in this city full of tourists, at any point she might turn a corner and hear someone speaking in German or English or Portuguese.
But after a week or so, it started to get lonely. She’d left Hellsing Manor in search of someone to belong to, and spending hours wandering around looking at people who moved in pairs and groups only emphasized how alone she really was. So she started looking for other people who were by themselves. She ended up having a number of delightful conversations by approaching people eating or standing alone. It probably wasn’t the most effective way to meet someone, but it was enough for the time being.
She’d been in Rome about six months, and was thinking about moving on. Florence had been recommended to her as a particularly beautiful city. For the moment, though, she was looking for someone to have a drink with.
There was a man sitting at a table at the edge of the patio of her favorite outdoor café, the one with the big striped umbrellas and the green wrought iron tables. At first glance, he was absolutely mouthwatering, with wavy gold hair pulled back into a ponytail, and warm cinnamon skin. From across the street, she couldn’t quite decide how old he was; his hands curled around the cappuccino mug seemed young enough, but there were lines around his sad mouth and crows-foot eyes. What caught her about him was how drawn and unhappy he looked, shoulders slumped and weary. She’d often felt that way after a mission under das Millennium, when the freedom had disappeared and she was left with nothing but Krieg’s bindings tearing at her soul.
She was seized with a sudden desire to make this stranger smile.
“Scusi, Signor, is this seat taken?”
He looked up, not even startling at her approach, so tired he was. “No, but I’m not much company, you’ll find.” His accent was peculiar, similar to Roman Italian, but overlaid with something else. Greek, perhaps.
“And what earth-shattering thing has happened to you, to make you so sad?” she asked, trying for levity.
He half-bowed his head. “The woman I love died last week. I’ve just come back from her funeral.”
Rip paled. “Oh. I’m sorry, I’ll…”
“No, it’s all right. Just don’t expect me to be particularly charming.”
“What happened to her, if I may ask?”
“It was a car accident. Most - most unexpected, for her. I… it isn’t that her dying young is surprising, but I never expected it to be….” He shook his head. “Like this.”
“Was she ill?”
“No, not at all.”
“But you - you’re not surprised she died young, you said, so I thought that maybe she was sickly.”
“No. Dangerous line of work, is all.”
“Wh-what did she do? I understand if you don’t want to talk about it….”
“She was,” his mouth twitched. “She fought vampires.” Absolutely deadpan, and perhaps another woman would not have believed him.
“Really? I didn’t know there were any vampire hunters in Italy.”
His mouth twitched again. “You’d be surprised. But she wasn’t in Italy, she was in England.”
“England?”
He nodded.
The world was suddenly not quite a stable surface. “Sir Integra…?” She did not want to ask, but the name spilled out anyway. The blond stranger’s head jerked up sharp and sudden, and she was fixed in his dark blue gaze.
“You know Integra.” It was a statement of fact, but she nodded in confirmation. “Who are you, that knows Integra? I do not know you.” He was speaking faster, slurring the words together, and her Italian was bad enough that she might have struggled to understand him were it not for the subject.
“I used to work for her. My name is Ri- Rivenna. Rivenna Kratzenberg. She is dead?”
He switched to English with a half-bow. The accent followed, becoming heavier and richer. “Dead these ten days. My name is Antony D’Addezio, I work for Iscariot.” The expressive mouth touched something that was almost a smile. “The Italian vampire hunters.”
Rip bowed her head to hide the crimson that touched her cheeks. Something about him… but perhaps it was just the news. Sir Integra dead, seemed an impossibility. Sooner the Coliseum pulled down, or the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling repainted white. She seemed as permanent, as untouchable, in Hellsing as either of those. “I - had not heard.” She felt guilty for not knowing, for spending the days that she had been dead doing the same things as when she had been alive. The master of my Master; surely I should have felt something. Surely I should have known.
“Walter was trying to keep the news hushed up, for the most part. Without Integra, after all, who controls her dog? It is a dangerous question.”
She suppressed the sudden flash of rage at this human insulting her Sire in such a fashion. She understood that grief could make a person do things, say things, that control would not ordinarily permit. He - loved - Integra? An image of her Master and his leaning together on the balcony in the soft evening light flickered through her thoughts, along with Alucard admitting that she was “not for the likes of him.” Had she been for the likes of this blue-eyed Catholic? She was becoming convinced that everyone had loved Integra, and that she had spurned all of them.
He finished the last of his drink and pushed it away. “I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings for you, Signorina.”
“It’s all right. Better I know. I’m sorry for disturbing you…. I am sorry for your loss.”
“Grazie,” he rasped, running a hand across his hair.
“Prego,” she replied automatically.
She found herself captured by his serious gaze. “What brings you to Italy, Signorina? Anything I can help you with?”
“Oh. No, no. I am here on - vacation.”
“Vacation? I didn’t realize anyone in Hellsing took vacations.”
“I - haven’t had one since…” How long have I been awake? “It’s been decades, I think.”
“Now that is par for the course for Hellsing.” He gave her a half-smile. “Can I show you around the city, perhaps?”
She almost said no. She’d seen everything worth seeing, after all; she’d been planning on leaving Rome sometime within the next day or two. But Florence alone probably wouldn’t be any better than Rome alone had been. And… well, he was an attractive man willing to pay her some attention. Even if he was in love with Integra. He wasn’t any different from any other man in her life that way.
He actually proved to her that she hadn’t seen all that Rome had to offer. He knew all sorts of out-of-the-way spots she’d missed, and also gave her a new perspective on places she had been to. And except for occasional bouts of melancholy, he proved to be quite charming indeed.
- end chapter 10 -
Chapter 10: Deliver Me
All of my life, I was in hiding, wishing there was
someone just like you. Now that you’re here,
now that I’ve found you,
I know you’ll be the one to see me through.
The city was beautiful, more beautiful than she had ever imagined. She spent several days just walking through the streets, looking at everything, taking it all in. There was so much to see; she could spend weeks just visiting galleries and museums and churches. And the people! It was marvelously freeing, surrounded by dozens and hundreds of people whom she did not know, to whom she owed nothing. Faces and voices, dozens of languages in this city full of tourists, at any point she might turn a corner and hear someone speaking in German or English or Portuguese.
But after a week or so, it started to get lonely. She’d left Hellsing Manor in search of someone to belong to, and spending hours wandering around looking at people who moved in pairs and groups only emphasized how alone she really was. So she started looking for other people who were by themselves. She ended up having a number of delightful conversations by approaching people eating or standing alone. It probably wasn’t the most effective way to meet someone, but it was enough for the time being.
She’d been in Rome about six months, and was thinking about moving on. Florence had been recommended to her as a particularly beautiful city. For the moment, though, she was looking for someone to have a drink with.
There was a man sitting at a table at the edge of the patio of her favorite outdoor café, the one with the big striped umbrellas and the green wrought iron tables. At first glance, he was absolutely mouthwatering, with wavy gold hair pulled back into a ponytail, and warm cinnamon skin. From across the street, she couldn’t quite decide how old he was; his hands curled around the cappuccino mug seemed young enough, but there were lines around his sad mouth and crows-foot eyes. What caught her about him was how drawn and unhappy he looked, shoulders slumped and weary. She’d often felt that way after a mission under das Millennium, when the freedom had disappeared and she was left with nothing but Krieg’s bindings tearing at her soul.
She was seized with a sudden desire to make this stranger smile.
“Scusi, Signor, is this seat taken?”
He looked up, not even startling at her approach, so tired he was. “No, but I’m not much company, you’ll find.” His accent was peculiar, similar to Roman Italian, but overlaid with something else. Greek, perhaps.
“And what earth-shattering thing has happened to you, to make you so sad?” she asked, trying for levity.
He half-bowed his head. “The woman I love died last week. I’ve just come back from her funeral.”
Rip paled. “Oh. I’m sorry, I’ll…”
“No, it’s all right. Just don’t expect me to be particularly charming.”
“What happened to her, if I may ask?”
“It was a car accident. Most - most unexpected, for her. I… it isn’t that her dying young is surprising, but I never expected it to be….” He shook his head. “Like this.”
“Was she ill?”
“No, not at all.”
“But you - you’re not surprised she died young, you said, so I thought that maybe she was sickly.”
“No. Dangerous line of work, is all.”
“Wh-what did she do? I understand if you don’t want to talk about it….”
“She was,” his mouth twitched. “She fought vampires.” Absolutely deadpan, and perhaps another woman would not have believed him.
“Really? I didn’t know there were any vampire hunters in Italy.”
His mouth twitched again. “You’d be surprised. But she wasn’t in Italy, she was in England.”
“England?”
He nodded.
The world was suddenly not quite a stable surface. “Sir Integra…?” She did not want to ask, but the name spilled out anyway. The blond stranger’s head jerked up sharp and sudden, and she was fixed in his dark blue gaze.
“You know Integra.” It was a statement of fact, but she nodded in confirmation. “Who are you, that knows Integra? I do not know you.” He was speaking faster, slurring the words together, and her Italian was bad enough that she might have struggled to understand him were it not for the subject.
“I used to work for her. My name is Ri- Rivenna. Rivenna Kratzenberg. She is dead?”
He switched to English with a half-bow. The accent followed, becoming heavier and richer. “Dead these ten days. My name is Antony D’Addezio, I work for Iscariot.” The expressive mouth touched something that was almost a smile. “The Italian vampire hunters.”
Rip bowed her head to hide the crimson that touched her cheeks. Something about him… but perhaps it was just the news. Sir Integra dead, seemed an impossibility. Sooner the Coliseum pulled down, or the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling repainted white. She seemed as permanent, as untouchable, in Hellsing as either of those. “I - had not heard.” She felt guilty for not knowing, for spending the days that she had been dead doing the same things as when she had been alive. The master of my Master; surely I should have felt something. Surely I should have known.
“Walter was trying to keep the news hushed up, for the most part. Without Integra, after all, who controls her dog? It is a dangerous question.”
She suppressed the sudden flash of rage at this human insulting her Sire in such a fashion. She understood that grief could make a person do things, say things, that control would not ordinarily permit. He - loved - Integra? An image of her Master and his leaning together on the balcony in the soft evening light flickered through her thoughts, along with Alucard admitting that she was “not for the likes of him.” Had she been for the likes of this blue-eyed Catholic? She was becoming convinced that everyone had loved Integra, and that she had spurned all of them.
He finished the last of his drink and pushed it away. “I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings for you, Signorina.”
“It’s all right. Better I know. I’m sorry for disturbing you…. I am sorry for your loss.”
“Grazie,” he rasped, running a hand across his hair.
“Prego,” she replied automatically.
She found herself captured by his serious gaze. “What brings you to Italy, Signorina? Anything I can help you with?”
“Oh. No, no. I am here on - vacation.”
“Vacation? I didn’t realize anyone in Hellsing took vacations.”
“I - haven’t had one since…” How long have I been awake? “It’s been decades, I think.”
“Now that is par for the course for Hellsing.” He gave her a half-smile. “Can I show you around the city, perhaps?”
She almost said no. She’d seen everything worth seeing, after all; she’d been planning on leaving Rome sometime within the next day or two. But Florence alone probably wouldn’t be any better than Rome alone had been. And… well, he was an attractive man willing to pay her some attention. Even if he was in love with Integra. He wasn’t any different from any other man in her life that way.
He actually proved to her that she hadn’t seen all that Rome had to offer. He knew all sorts of out-of-the-way spots she’d missed, and also gave her a new perspective on places she had been to. And except for occasional bouts of melancholy, he proved to be quite charming indeed.
- end chapter 10 -