 |
 |
The Site
What the Hell(sing) is New?Send in Your Fics!MatoskaLoyal Integra FanboyHellsing
The Hellsing OrganizationComic OriginsHellsing MangaThe AnimeHellsing OVAHellsing SoundtracksHellsing QuotesIscariotSpellingsThe HH Guide To HellsingLinksFanart
Loyal Integra Fanboy ComicsFanfic
A Game of ChessAlucard and WhoA Quiet NightBest Kept SecretHuman FrailtyFamily ObligationsFor His Own PurposesNew RecruitSeras ThoughtsTo Catch a FoxHounds of HellsingBirthday CakeRoyal PurpleSeeing RedA Pain in the Neck1 A Pain in the Neck2 Facing The Music3 The Last Days of the Kitten4 Kiss Off5 SuspendedClub TepesPart OnePart TwoEvery Good BoyEvery Good BoyEvery Good Boy 2Every Good Boy 3Every Good Boy 4Every Good Boy 5Every Good Boy 6Every Good Boy 7Every Good Boy 8Every Good Boy 9Every Good Boy 10Every Good Boy 11Sophie The Vampire Slayer!Sophie Part ISophie Part IISophie Part III Chapter ISophie Part III Chapter IISophie Part III Chapter IIISophie Part III Chapter IVSophie Part III Chapter VSophie Part III Chapter VIThe Child of SerasThe Child of SerasThe Child 2The Child 3The Child 4The Child 5The Child 6The Child 7The Child 8The Child 9The Child 10The Child 9bThe Child 11The Child 12The Child 13The Child 13bThe Child 14The Child 14bThe Child 15The Child 16The Child 17The Child 18The Child 19The Child 20The Child 21Two Vampires in HogwartsTwo Vampires in HogwartsHogwarts 2Hogwarts 3Hogwarts 4Hogwarts 5Hogwarts 6Hogwarts 7Hogwarts 8Join In!
Share The Love
| The Child of Seras |
| by MindAsylum |
|
The Child of Seras Chapter XVII The Smallest Player Corporal Braxton walked out of the locker room for the first time in a week. It had taken almost that long to convince his wife that he’d gotten jumped on the way back from work and that he was on sick leave all that time. He’d always hated having to keep his job from her, but how else could he have explained it? Even if she was in the know, the story written in his bruised and swollen face was too strange for even him to completely understand. Even now as he was flanked by Hellsing’s art collection in the main hall, he still wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Most of the other soldiers hadn’t given him too much flak over the incident so far. He still hadn’t seen Mick, Reilly, or Jackson, though it didn’t take much imagination to figure out their feelings on the matter. Then there was the Seras’ kid himself. When Braxton had asked about him, all he got were shrugs. None of them, except the three responsible for his lost molar, had even seen him. He had made the mistake of approaching Victoria on the way in, who answered his question with a stare that promised murder if he so much as coughed in her direction. All he gathered was that he’d been released from the sick bay two days earlier. About two hours into his investigation, Braxton gave up and elected join the others at the range. His best grouping was five inches, especially poor considering he was one of the best shots in his squad. He blamed on his eye, which was still bruised and sore from all the fluorescent lighting in the range. Then, on the last hour of his “shift,” he ran into the kid in the hallway. Braxton froze, unsure if he recognized him. He was walking close to the wall to Braxton’s left as he turned the corner toward the sub basement, staring straight ahead, no longer with the darting uncertainty was once his signature, but with a determined focus more becoming of a chess player than the awkward kid he had known. Crooked in his arm was a stack of books whose titles Braxton couldn’t make out, and before he had the chance to try he realized that the kid had stopped and turned to face him. “Do you need one of these?” he asked, his voice serious yet strangely calm, not unfriendly but not warm, either, like two pressed sheets of paper being slid against each other; the voice of a professional. Braxton looked up and saw the fruit of his actions in the light of the hallway. The scars, beginning at the right corner of his mouth, branched out like a leafless tree whose trunk formed a slight, passive scowl on his face. When paired with the determination in his eyes—one that seemed to be permanently discolored—he looked as though he was always searching for something he couldn’t quite pin down. Scars on a vampire? He’d seen the big one, Alucard, get blown into hamburger meat and stick himself back together with nary a scratch to remember it by. Then again, Victoria still had that scar from the number Anderson did on her, so maybe he was an exception. Braxton recalled the ten minutes of concentrated agony he’d heard through the vents at the behest of his compatriots. Sure, he was healed and on his feet, just like he’d predicted, but could any amount of healing take those minutes back? “The library has copies if you need them,” he said, betraying no impatience. Braxton suddenly felt like a Nazi standing before a Holocaust survivor. This boy, who wasn’t even old enough for the army, had been through as much pain as any war veteran he had ever known, and here he was, staring at the cause of it all, asking him if he needed any books. “Nah, I’m…fine,” Braxton answered slowly, broken from his trance. He was in the middle of deciding whether to apologize or do an about face when the kid saved him the trouble of doing either. “You can stop worrying, Corporal,” said Rivers. He almost, in a fit of mindlessness, said “about what,” but he knew full well that under any sensible circumstance, it would have cost him a few more teeth. So he just stared dumbly and waited for him to continue. “What’s done is done. I don’t like holding grudges or stirring bad blood. Hellsing has enough on its plate already, and the last thing I want to be is the center of any more problems. What Mick and the others did to you was out of line, and I’ve told them so. We’re all here for the same reason,” He kneeled for a moment, carefully tilting his books sideways in his hand to set the down on the ground. He stood back up on held out his right hand. “And I’m not ready to let one honest mistake make me forget that, are you?” Braxton took another look at his hands, and noticed, for the first time, that one of them was missing, cut off almost at the shoulder. He looked back up at his eyes, waiting patiently, almost hopefully, for his response. “No.” he answered finally, “I’m not.” Braxton took the vampire’s hand and shook it once. He smiled slightly through his scar, and Braxton responded in kind, albeit less surely. He took the stack of books to his arm again and said, “I’ll be seeing you in the field, Corporal. Hopefully, in uniform.” Braxton nodded and watched him disappear through secret compartment behind the portrait of Queen Elizabeth. The painting slid shut and the most peculiar feeling hit Braxton, some sort of impact left behind by the presence of the young vampire. It was not the kind that followed meeting someone important, like the Queen or the Prime Minister, nor was it the kind that preceded the meeting of someone of such note. It was a nameless, fleeting certainty that—whether his actions played a part or not—he’d crossed paths with someone who would one day be the Queen or the Prime Minister; perhaps something even more. The kind that had him imagining himself as an old, retired veteran, telling his grandchildren what occurred on this night. And then, as Braxton headed back to the locker room to begin his trek home, it passed, not even staying long enough for him to remember it. His wife was cooking brisket tonight, and he wasn’t missing it for the world.
|
| Visitors: 00062 |