Hellsing Fan Fiction ❯ Burgundy Comfort ❯ Chapter 1

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Iggy Lovechild
In the days following the attack on the compound, Integra takes comfort in a bottle of wine and her vampire. (Not really a romance. No sex. More based on the events of the manga rather than the anime.)

Anime/Manga: Hellsing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Psychological | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 12.08.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 5.2K | Visits: 1.3K | Status: Completed

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They belong to Kohta Hirano. I mean no copyright infringement in using his characters for my own design.
a/n: Yep, Iggy's experimenting in another fandom. Though there are two erotic pieces on AFF, this is my first Hellsing fic posted on Media Miner. As per usual I have the new fandom jitters. A couple quick warnings: For those who don't like reading about an Integra capable of expressing human vulnerability I suggest you back out now. Also, while I revel in Alucard and his monstrosities, he's a bit keyed down due to the nature of this story. Forgive me of the brief flashes of fluffiness. I tried to heavily edit out as much as possible. In a lot of ways this is a very ambitious little one-shot as I am trying to convey emotional depth in both characters without spinning them into OOC. Here's hoping I managed it.
Special thanks to Patchwork Muse for betaing and looking this story over as a peer and friend.
“Burgundy Comfort”
Sir Integra Hellsing was not to be disturbed. That was what she had told Walter before retreating into her office and locking the door to the outside world. She did not turn on the lights; she let the room be illuminated only by the burning tip of her cigar and the late evening moonlight.
Her mind was blank, too tired from the thousands of regrets that weighed heavily upon it as well as plans and scenarios that could have prevented the attack. Some of them were orderly and brilliant; others were the panicked daydreams of an overstressed imagination. For a brief moment, she wished that she was prone to weeping. She was sure that the only thing left to her was a good, long crying jag.
It was not in Integra's nature to show that kind of weakness, so she let the pain and frustration fester. Instead, when she came to the end of her cigar and had to snuff it out, she lit another one. Integra's smoking habit had become considerably more frequent since the attack on the compound.
She also badly needed sleep. It wasn't that she hadn't tried, just that whenever she closed her eyes, she saw the ruined, undead visages of men she had trusted, men that had trusted her. She saw blank eyes that always seemed a little bit scornful and accusing right before she raised her pistol to their faces and…. So she drank endless cups of tea, but she also knew that eventually she'd have to face her nightmares.
Movement on the edge of her vision straightened her spine even though she knew exactly who it would be. It was inevitable. Apparently Alucard interpreted `Sir Integra is not to be disturbed' as an open invitation to his company. Sometimes it annoyed her; this time, however, the intrusion was a welcome one. If nothing else, he could be a distraction from her exhaustion and the endless examination of her overtaxed soul.
Integra looked up and frowned as she watched him set a bottle of red wine and two long-stemmed glasses on her desk.
“Wine?” she made a slightly disdainful face at him. “You should know well enough that I'm not one to drown my sorrows, Alucard.”
“Indeed I do, Master,” he replied with a curt nod as he pulled the cork from the neck of the bottle, “but Walter had been expressing his concern over your sleeplessness.”
Integra felt a wry smile touch her lips, “I see. He must be in quite a panic if he encouraged you to ply me with liquor.”
“Well…Actually he suggested chamomile tea or some such thing, but to be honest, I planned this out on my own,” Alucard placed a glass in front of her before pouring for himself.
Integra toyed with the idea of refusing to drink but rejected it after a moment of consideration. What harm would a glass of wine (Burgundy to be specific. Alucard liked the bitter reds because, according to him, they tasted a bit like blood) or two do? Maybe she would finally be able to sleep without dreaming. 
He sat down across from her, crossed his long legs languidly, and regarded her over the rim of his wine glass. “And, Master,” he raised his eyebrows teasingly, “it's seldom we get quiet moments to be alone and just talk.”
Integra scowled, “Doesn't anything ever faze you?”
“There was nothing more that you could have done,” Alucard sighed, a touch of world-weariness darkening his tone. “Personally, I think you handled the situation quite well.”
Her fingers tightened around the glass as she fixed him with a hard glare. “Eighty-six men, Alucard, dead by my hand as if I'd executed them myself. I don't call that handling the situation `quite well'.”
Alucard shrugged, “I never understood why you keep so many humans in your service anyway. They're so…fragile.”
Integra sighed heavily and filled her mouth with red wine. She swallowed the bitter liquid without really tasting it. The alcohol settled in her stomach with a leaden weight and made her light-headed. “This is why we don't talk like this,” she muttered. “Have you no compassion whatsoever?”
“I am not entirely without sympathy.”
She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh really?”
He smirked. “Of course. The police girl is devastated. She's been having the most gruesome nightmares.”
Integra's lips twisted bitterly. She understood the gist of his meaning. Because of Seras's lingering humanity, he had some understanding of compassion and emotional distraught. Yet she knew he didn't feel it himself; it was just a facade. “Well,” she sneered, “I'm sure it was a right good time for you. By the way, what happened to that other vampire? Walter informed me that no trace of it was found.”
Alucard shrugged. “He seemed more than what he actually was. I got a bit…enthusiastic.”
She nodded gravely, watched as he refilled her half-drunk glass.
“Is this why you haven't been sleeping?” He asked abruptly, crimson eyes narrowed and carefully taking her measure. “Do these thoughts, your misplaced guilt, keep you up all night?”
“In a way,” Integra sighed wearily. “I've been having…nightmares.”
Alucard's eyebrows rose along with his wine glass to his lips. For a small moment she savoured the graceful, practiced movements of his simplest gesture. She remembered how she'd loved watching him when she'd been younger. 
His gaze never left her eyes. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”
The bittersweet memories made her smile slightly. After her father's death, she'd had terrible nightmares and would often wake up terrified of unseen enemies. Alucard was always there, her sentinel in red and black. Sometimes they would talk about it, other times he would sit on the edge of her bed as if his very presence could ward away the demons that haunted her. In that instant, she longed for those twilight years of her innocence. She wanted to tell him yes, and curl in her bed like a child, knowing he was there and would never let her come to harm.
Instead, she stiffened and gave him a sour look, “I think I can sleep without you hovering about. All I need….” She stared pointedly at the bottle of Burgundy, “is to drink more wine.”
“I thought that you weren't interested in drowning your sorrows,” Alucard teased even as he poured her third glass.
Integra scoffed, “I'm not even tipsy and anyway, I don't intent to get pissed.”
“Of course not,” His eyes lowered in mock-submission as his lips curled into a slow grin.
*~*~*~*
“Alucard?”
“Yes, my master.”
“Do you happen to know where the nearest convent is?”
He favoured her with a bemused expression. While Integra was not drunk her tongue had certainly loosened up after her fourth glass of wine. Being a vampire, Alucard did not suffer from such intoxication. 
(The police girl had not been aware of such things and had recently succeeded in making herself very ill after consuming two bottles of scotch. By the time he'd gotten to her, she'd been lying on the floor of her room moaning pitifully with her skin beginning to take on a bluish tinge. Even suffering, she'd still refused blood. Alucard did not relish the idea that he might have to force feed her soon….)
“No,” he replied. “I'm afraid I don't pay attention to those things.”
“Pity.” Integra sipped at her fifth glass of wine and appeared glassy eyed and rueful, “because I was considering setting you loose on one. If our enemies wish to play dirty, so can we.”
Alucard chuckled. “Vampire nuns? I had no idea my master had such a twisted imagination.”
She snorted, lit another cigar, her sixth since he'd sat down to converse and drink with her. “It would piss off the Vatican right and proper, as well.”
“Killing two birds with one stone,” Alucard grinned. “What a delightful idea!”
His master sighed, sounding vaguely dejected. Of course he knew her little scenario had been nothing more than a wine-addled daydream. Alucard didn't mind it. He liked seeing her a bit vulnerable; she wore it so awkwardly, a curse rather than strength.
“What do you dream of?”
Integra's eyes narrowed. “In general or of recent?”
Alucard shrugged. He sipped his wine and gave her a gaze without guile. It was easy to be sincere for her, even if it was a little bit dishonest, the larger part of inward plotting and secret desires.
She sighed softly and stood. Her legs were somewhat unsteady, which lent an unconscious sensuality to her movements. Integra walked to the window and leaned her forehead against the cold glass. She bowed her head and her long blonde hair tumbled in waves over her shoulders.
“I see them,” she confessed, “All those men…. Every night I have to kill them again.”
“They were already dead,” Alucard reminded her softly.
“I know that,” Integra snarled, turning dramatically and glaring at him as she steadied herself against the windowpane. “But whose fault was that? Mine and mine alone!”
He snorted. “Please. Is that what all those old men told you?”
“I didn't need them to tell me. Hellsing is my responsibility; every mission, every bit of information, every man and woman who serves this organization.”
“They made the choice to join Hellsing. No one forced them to serve. They knew what they were getting into.”
Integra's eyes blazed and he concealed a smirk. She was never more beautiful to him. “Do you mean to suggest that their deaths meant nothing?”
He shrugged idly. “I mean to suggest that when one wages war one must expect casualties. Frankly, I'm surprised this hadn't happened sooner.”
Alucard was surprised when she didn't argue his point. Instead she slid down the window to her knees. Head bowed low, hair brushing the carpeted floor, she almost looked as if she were praying. Perhaps she was. Her shoulders trembled as the wine glass that had been in her hand slipped from her fingers. The reek of spilled wine assaulted his sensitive sense of smell. With a soft sigh, he crossed the room and picked up the glass. He set it on the desk before crouching in front of his fallen master.
“What did I do wrong?” Integra's already husky voice lowered mournfully, rendering it androgynous and sexless.
Alucard placed an impulsively tender hand on the crown of her head and imagined he could feel the softness of her hair through his gloves. “Your father would have been proud.”
She laughed soft and bitterly. “Stop it.”
He frowned. “Stop what?”
Integra looked up and Alucard was startled by the silent tears welling up in her eyes. He hadn't seen her cry since the age of fifteen. Oh, this was a treat! Crystalline tears shimmered against her tawny cheeks and he idly wondered how angry she would get if he licked them away. He wondered if he cared. After all, he did so love it when she was angry….
“Stop trying to comfort me,” Integra stared fiercely into his eyes. “I don't deserve it!”
Alucard grinned despite her catharsis. “Of course, Master, but what do you wish me to say?”
“Shut up,” Integra growled as she grabbed the lapels of his duster. “Just shut the hell up, Alucard.” 
What she did next surprised him even more than her tears. She wound her slender arms around his neck and drew him into an intimate embrace. His arms slid about her waist and he held her close without a second thought.
He enjoyed the warm, soft press of her body and her sweet, human fragrance. She was a myriad of sensations and scents. Her breasts moved gently against his chest with every inhaled breath, her cheek was warm and slightly moist with tears against his neck; her hair brushed his face enticingly. She smelled faintly of cigar smoke, deodorant that did little to hide the sweet musk of her sweat from his keen nose, and of the faded fragrances of expensive shampoos and soaps. Beneath all of it was the dark, heady scent of her mortality, her blood. It nearly overwhelmed Alucard, to have her so close.
“I don't want to talk anymore,” she murmured. “All I want right now is…this.” She squeezed him once for emphasis. Alucard hid a small smile against her hair. Even in such a state, Integra was too proud to say something as soft and effeminate as `hold me.'
He adhered to her request, not only as her servant but out of his fondness for her. Though he cared little for the deaths of the humans she'd commanded, he cared very much that it pained her.
Alucard knew that things would get worse before they got better. The thought excited him. It had been centuries since the hunt had been anything more than a passing amusement for him. He had a feeling that Luke Valentine's brief show of strength had been just the beginning of something more than his nightly battles with thin-blooded children and third-rate punks who though they were kings just because they had a set of fangs.
There would be pain, there would be blood and chaos, and Alucard had every intention of being in the thick of it.
*~*~*~*
After an indeterminate amount of time, Integra's knees began to hurt and her legs went uncomfortably numb. She shifted restlessly, trying to alleviate the unpleasant sensation. Integea was beginning to get sleepy from the wine, but was too comfortable in her vampire's arms to conceive of abandoning them. She had so few, rare moments of contentment that she had a hard time working up the desire to deny herself. 
Instead, she squirmed like a child who had been told to sit still. Alucard made an annoyed sound as he pulled back from her to look into her face. He shook his head and the movement made his hair shiver and move silkily about his narrow, handsome features.
“God,” he muttered as he rolled his eyes. “You can be stubborn sometimes.”
Before she could protest, Alucard gathered her up into his arms. Even had she wanted to, Integra knew better than to fight him. She'd seen him impale vampires with the merest thrust of his hand as well as other feats of his undead strength. Trying to resist him physically would be like trying to alter the path of the Thames with a gardening spade.
She did scowl at him darkly. “What in blazes do you think you're doing, Alucard?”
He favoured her with a slightly haughty look that gave her the distinct impression that, had she not been his master, he would not have dignified her question with an answer. “Are you going to deny that you were growing uncomfortable in such a position?” There was the slightest touch of scorn to his tone, as if he didn't like to be reminded that she was still nothing more than a weak mortal, prone to joint stiffness and limbs that fell asleep.
“No,” Integra replied sullenly.
“Be quiet and let me do what is needed. I thought you were done talking tonight anyway.”
She bristled. “Forgive me, I must be drunker than I imagined, but did you just presume to give me an order?”
Alucard chuckled as he walked back toward her desk. “Of course not, my master,” he replied as he sat down in the chair she'd been seated in before her little breakdown on the floor. “I am merely concerned about your physical comfort.”
He adjusted her in arms so she was draped sensuously across his lap. One of hands snaked beneath her suit jacket to rub slow circles on the small of her back through the thin silk of her blouse. The other hand settled high on one of her thighs. Integra was glad that the door was locked against intrusion, for her position was rather more intimate than she would usually allow.
She should have been bothered by the comfort of his touching. It was entirely inappropriate for her to show such weakness in front of her monster. Too bad she had having a difficult time mustering her usual righteous indignation. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the lack of sleep and her soul-crushing guilt, but she didn't mind being cradled against him at all. 
There were no real romantic notions behind her contentment, though she had long ago come to terms with the fact that he was quite attractive. Rather, her focus was on the trust she put in him to keep her safe, the strength that made him near invincible, and the knowledge that he would kill anyone who so much as raised a hand to do her harm.
In that moment, Integra knew that despite the distance she put between them, their bond ran far deeper than that of master and servant. Anyone else would have thought of the emotion as love, but Integra had never been so weak for that kind of sentimentality. As for Alucard, he could still be a mystery to her. She had the gut feeling that he had his own reason for being so loyal to her and it nothing to do with God, The Queen, or the good of humanity.
None of that mattered now. Whether or not he harbored sinister plans for her, it was now a rather moot point.
Twisted and monstrous though his brand of caring could be, he was sincere. She needed that now; she needed him more than anyone else. So she held onto him, fearless and yet vulnerable as wine and companionship lulled her into complacency.
Finis.