The Child of Seras - by MindAsylum - Anime - http://www.hellsingfanfic.net/hellsingfanfic/The_Child

The Child of Seras

Chapter IX

February 2

I’ve returned from my mission. It was a complete success. Everyone was pleased with me; Seras, Mick, even Integra gave an approving nod. “Welcome to Hellsing,” they all said. I should be proud of myself: I did my job, and without Seras’ help at that. Everyone’s happy. Or at least not annoyed. I’ve just took the first step toward acceptance here.

But I’m not proud. I’m scared. Scared like a kid tied to a chair in a stranger’s basement More scared than I can ever remember being. When I think of yesterday, I don’t think “job well done,” oh no. All I think of are those two strawberry blonde girls I saw in those pictures. I think of their faces contorted in sorrow and confusion when their father’s death is read off to them from a fake autopsy report. I think of the scars they’ll have to carry for the rest of their lives. But mostly, I think of their eyes, staring at me as I destroyed what was left of their father, and smiled. I actually smiled. How did I lose control so easily? And why does it feel so familiar?

“Has anyone ever told you that you think entirely too much?”

Jake dropped his pen, sprang up, and whirled around. “Jesus!”

Alucard stood there, his default expression beaming with delight at the momentary terror he had caused him. It was likely he’d been looking over his shoulder the whole time.

“I thought you were supposed to be in your coffin!”

“I was, until five minutes ago.”

A cold feeling crept in Jake’s stomach. Alucard probably didn’t appreciate being locked in a coffin for a week, even if it was his own actions that led to it. Just as Jake was imagining the many gruesome, horrible ways that Alucard could exact his vengeance, he asked a question as gentle as a mortician’s scalpel.

“Did you have fun?”

Jake opened his mouth to say something. Nothing came out.

Alucard’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like repeating myself.”

Jake broke his trance and turned away. “O-of course not!” he shouted irritably. “What kind of question is that, anyway?” He pretended to go back to his work, hoping Alucard would take the hint. He should have known better.

“I don’t think you’re being entirely honest with me, fledgling.” there was an edge to his voice that made Jake set the pen down and turn back around. “Then again, I suppose hiding—or should I say, hiding from—the truth is something you must have become quite versed in by now.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“If you wanted to know that, you wouldn’t have had to ask me.” He stated simply.

Jake hated it when Alucard talked in riddles like this. There was a trap door in every sentence and spikes waiting at the bottom of every pit. It was best to indulge him, lest he take a more brutal approach, even though they were in the library with camera’s trained on them. But Jake really didn’t like where he was going.

“What do you want, Alucard?”

Alucard’s voice and expression did not change. “I want you to answer my question before I decide to extract the answer through less pleasant means.”

“I already told you, no.” Jake insisted, “I did my job, that’s it.”

“Then tell me,” he began, with that serrated but polished tone of his, “What is it that you’re so ‘afraid’ of? Is it, perhaps, that you’ve finally gotten a taste of what it’s like to be a monster, and have found it to your liking?”

Jake felt as if Alucard had thrown a lit match into his gas tank. The table he sat at shattered as Jake brought his fists down upon it outrage.

“I am NOT a monster!”

He shouted in a voice he didn’t even recognize; it was a mixture of a hiss and a growl. His heart was thrashing in his chest, as if it might leap out and attack the smug vampire in front of him.

Alucard’s eyes beamed with interest. A low chuckle stirred in his chest. “If only you could see what I see right now...” he said,

“It stirs in its sleep. Did your Master put it there, or did she merely give it claws?”

Jake’s rage froze as though doused with liquid nitrogen. He looked at the table, hastily grabbed his notebook from the wreckage, and without saying another word, left in a near-run.

Alucard called out to him. “I just wanted say, ‘welcome to the first night of the rest of your unlife’!”

Jake slammed the door to the library shut and headed for the subbasement.

--

Seras stood at attention in front of her commander, still unsure of why she was called here. Walter’s face held an acute sense of concern when he called her up for this meeting.

“Ms. Victoria, Sir Integra wishes to see you in her office.”

He’d said in the same composed, poised way he said everything, but what disturbed her was that she just barely noticed him cutting a cautious glance at Jake, as though he was looking at a strange dog chained to a post.

“Seras...” began Integra. She was calling her by her first name. Integra never did that. Just what the hell was going on?

“We’ve received some new information regarding your fledgling’s background. Information that you, as his Master, need to know, and we, as an organization, need to act upon.”

“What kind of information?” she asked cautiously.

Integra picked up a large manila envelope and gave it to Walter, who in turn gave it to Seras. She took it cautiously, eyeing it with some confusion.

“What is this?”

“It’s your fledgling’s Pandora’s box,” said Integra, putting out her cigarillo, “within it are files detailing his basic background, psychological profile, and, most importantly, his file with the Foundation.”

“The Foundation?” Seras was well aware of the Foundation; America’s elite vampire hunters; rated beside the Vatican not for their volume of kills but for their efficiency. But why on earth would it take notice of Jake?

“It seems he has had prior experience with vampires. He was present during a vampire attack on the town of Grandville, California 8 years ago.”

“I don’t understand,” Seras face twisted in confusion, beginning to open the packet. “Why wouldn’t he tell us something so important?”

“It’s all in those files, Seras. What you choose to do with them is your choice entirely. However, a concession must be made in the risk we are taking by allowing him to stay here.”

“Risk?” she spat, almost offended.

“You must never let him out of your sight. If he behaves in any way you consider strange, I wish to know about it immediately. You have your orders, and your information. You are dismissed.”

“But I—“

“You are dismissed.” Integra said, lacking the usual sternness.

Seras gave a resigned salute and left the room so confused that if not for the creeping dread spreading from her stomach, she would have demanded more answers. She looked again at the envelope, Jake’s “Pandora’s Box,” and hurried down to her room.

--

The contents of the envelope were strewn across the wooden table where Seras sat. She’d been staring at them for at least a half an hour by now: a large file stamped CLASSIFIED and three videotapes entitled “Sessions” A,B and C.

Neither looked inviting, to say the least. Anytime she touched the file, her hand would draw away suddenly, as if some part of it might snatch her away. “Pandora’s Box,” that’s what Integra had called it. Did she even have to open them?

Of course, she scolded herself, Jake’s your fledgling, and you’re responsible for him. If whatever’s in here has spooked Integra into putting him under a microscope, then it’s too important to just ignore, and damn it, you’re a vampire. Information isn’t on your list of things to fear.

Seras swallowed hard, and opened the folder

Foundation Case File #1489-S
Name: Jacob Rivers
Age: 9 years (as of 1997)
Birthdate: 1/18/1989

Family history: Born to William and Margaret Rivers, eight years after his Sister, Ciel. Genetics predisposed to alcoholism, as shown by a cursory examination of either side of the family. No known mental disorders on either side.

Environment: Lived in a slum of Los Angeles in an apartment complex. Gang violence was commonplace in this area. School and work conditions deplorable.

Medical History: Margaret Rivers abused heroine during her pregnancy, and so Jacob was born prematurely. This accounts for his physical frailty in early development, which is still marginally noticeable by his low weight and light frame. From age five to age nine, he is recorded to have been admitted to the local hospital thirty-three times, only four of which were due to illnesses. The others were all due to physical injuries listed as “accidents” most of which were, among other things, broken bones (for details, see “Medical Records”).

Seras skimmed through a few of them; broken cheekbones, arms, even a leg at one point. Two dislocated shoulders (at different times), bruised ribs and three broken fingers. These couldn’t have been accidents, they were just too numerous. Did he get into fights a lot in school? No, the injuries were too great to have been sustained so superficially. The scars on his fingers still had not been accounted for.

Early ExperienceMargaret died of a heroine overdose one year after giving birth to Jacob, so William raised him and his sister alone. He was a known child abuser in the neighborhood, but due to his connections in the police department, no one would report him. It has been estimated that out of the thirty-three hospital stays Jacob has on record, William is directly responsible for at least twenty-four of them.

Seras nearly leapt out of her chair. Twenty-four times this bastard had hospitalized him? No wonder he took Alucard’s abuse with such total resignation; being downtrodden was probably second nature to him. She would see to it that Alucard never laid another finger on him again. She calmed herself and continued reading.

On February 17, 1995, both he and his sister ran from home. Their father never reported them missing, and would a year later die in a car crash while intoxicated. Ceil, seventeen at the time, drove Jacob to Grandville, a farming town a few miles out of the San Diego city limits, where they found room and board with the Graysons, an elderly couple owning a cattle ranch.There they lived there for roughly ten months. They would work for the Graysons in exchange for their stay, and reportedly were treated much like their own grandchildren.

A photo was provided on the next page. A young Jake with jet black hair, stood in a field of grass, under a cloudless sky. A young girl with equally dark hair and soft, blue eyes kneeled behind him, holding onto him with her face gently smiling right beside his own. There was no doubt in Seras’ mind; this was Ceil, the one who had saved him from that monstrous father of theirs. They looked so happy together, it was like a postcard sent from heaven.

Seras suddenly grew nauseous as she turned the page, and found what looked like a field report.

CASE NO 82944
7/28/97
Mission: Search and Destroy

Overview: Received information off from local cells indicating an infestation of 1-3 Nosferatu in Wine County, CA. Local reports pinpointed activity at 1606 Watermill Rd, home of Ethel and Roger Grayson. Agents Royce, Carson, Rodriguez dispatched. Confirmed Nosferatu presence, but no subjects. Two ghouls were present and dispatched without casualties. Confirmed to be residential owners. Further investigation did not yield the sire. Additional fatality by decapitation confirmed, identified as Ceil Rivers, age 17.

He had seen her die. It wasn’t just a possibility, Seras was certain of it. Jake had watched as his sister was decapitated.
One survivor, found to be Jake Rivers, age 9, formerly living with William Rivers (DEC.). Survivor was found to be untainted with severe abrasions to all digits on the hands, including some bone damage.

An image flashed in Seras’ mind: Jake’s child self, trembling in fear and agony, the tips of his fingers scraped to the bone with bits of flesh and skin curling back, the fingernails broken and jagged. She blinked it away and read on.

Agents Royce and Rodriguez dispatched to Los Angeles for further investigations of sire. Suspicions confirmed of larger Nosferatu ring in the area. Survivor sent to Deep Ground for recovery and debriefing.

Deep Ground. The United Nations-sanctioned secret facility for re-integrating witnesses of vampire attacks, and imprisoning those too stubborn or too damaged to keep their mouths shut. Seras herself had only heard of this place recently, after a vampire attack in Yorkshire, one of the few instances where she had ever known anyone to survive. She had asked Sir Integra what happened to the surviving family. Integra had said that if they were too disturbed to be sworn to secrecy, then they would likely be sent to the secret facility. Not even she knew for sure what happened after that, but it sufficed to say that most of those who go in don’t come out. At least, not as they once were.

The report ended there, but the file wasn’t even half finished. So far, Seras knew her fledgling had a terrible childhood and had his life destroyed by vampires not once, but twice. But inside she knew this wasn’t the worst of it, not by a longshot. But she had no excuse not to finish what she started. For Jake’s sake, she had to see this through.

Seras ignored the knot in her throat and turned the page.
Preliminary Evaluation (Jan 1, 1997) done by Dr. Ralph Harding, PhD

Patient shows symptoms of severe Post Traumatic Shock. He will not speak to or even acknowledge the presence of anyone who approaches him. He will not eat or drink anything, even if left alone in the room. A feeding tube will be applied if this does not change in 24 hours time. When and if he begins to show signs of communication, therapy can begin.

Jan 3

The patient is beginning to deteriorate due to malnutrition. A feeding tube has been applied, with no resistance from the patient. Still no communication or even acknowledgment attempted.

Jan 29

The patient has broken from his shock. He forcibly removed the feeding tube, creating minor lacerations in his esophagus, and repeatedly screamed “Ceil” over and over. When help was sent in to calm him, I followed. The moment he saw us, he accused us being “monsters,” and attempted to attack us with his IV stand. It took a remarkable amount of effort to subdue him; both orderlies had to hold him down, and even then he thrashed about enough to match the strongest patient here. It took time and patience, but I was able to convince him that we were not going to harm him. He calmed himself and after a time, we left him to himself. Our first session will begin tomorrow morning (see “Sessions”).

Seras took a cautious glance at the tapes that were on the table. She didn’t have a VCR, or even a TV in her room, but the screening room was upstairs. It was probably unlocked, and it was 1:00am, so she probably wouldn’t be interrupted.

The walk to the screening room was longer than it should have been. The flight of stairs in the subbasement was too tall, the hallways too narrow, the lights too dim. Even the paintings seemed to stare at her in pity. It was as if the entire mansion, though empty, dark, and quiet, was warning her against what she was about to do. Seras felt the impulse to lock the tapes in the unused drawer in her desk and forget they were there, to throw them in a dumpster on garbage day, or to burn them in her trash basket downstairs. But she didn’t. She just swallowed hard and kept walking, telling herself that this was for Jake’s sake.

Seras walked cautiously into the screening room and shut the door behind her, locking it to make sure that no one would walk in. She turned on the VCR and projection screen, turned the lights off, and took out the first tape, “Session 1-5.” Slower than was necessary, she slid it into the VCR, heard its mechanical buzz and click, and sat down at the end of the table.

A static screen, then a white one.
Patient No. 1489-S
Jacob Rivers
Session 1

The camera cut to an angle that showed a pale, withered child, sitting at the end of a steel table. His eyes were watery and sunken in, with black circles around them, utterly lost in his own suffering. His hair was shaggy and had begun to form a white streak on the left side. Cheekbones protruded unnaturally from his face. His hands rested limply on the table, with bandages still around his fingertips.

“Jacob,” said a soft voice from off-screen. “My name is Dr. Harding. There’s no need for you to be afraid anymore; no one here is going to hurt you. There are no monsters here, Jacob. Only us, and we’re here to help you. You are safe here. Do you understand?”

Little Jake said nothing for almost ten minutes. The doctor was patient, and took his time. When he spoke, it was barely above a whisper.

“You’re wrong.”

“About what?” asked the doctor curiously.

“There is...” he began, staring at the steel table, as though looking into it. “...a monster.”

The fingers on his right hand twitched suddenly, and began to scratch weakly at the table weakly at regular intervals, like some sort of outside heartbeat.

The doctor tried to ask him what he meant, but Jake had already hit the off switch. After about twenty minutes of no response, he ended the session. The camera cut to fuzz again, then into the next session.

Jake was unresponsive for the next two sessions. The white streak in his hair had expanded considerably, though his face was a little fuller, and the circles around his eyes had begun to fade. Seras guessed it was probably due to intravenous feeding and sedative-induced sleep. By the fourth, the bandages on his fingers were reduced to a single layer, exposing his still partially broken fingernails.

“I hear you had a nightmare last night, Jacob.”

Jake responded by beginning to scratch against the table again. His fingernails made a much more distinct noise, a repetitive scritch that would have driven a less patient man up the wall.

“Was it about the monsters again?”

He kept scratching.

“Was it about Ceil?”

The scratching stopped. Jake’s eyes widened, his hands balling into trembling fists. He hunched over the table, as though about to vomit. Then he relaxed, easing back into his seat and unclenching his fists. His head tilted down, the shadow of his hair making it impossible to see his expression.

“A pen.” He said simply. It was a quiet voice, but Seras heard a barely perceptible edge to it.

“What was that?” asked the doctor, not fully understanding.

“I need a pen.”

The doctor’s hand appeared onscreen as he handed the boy the pen. Jake’s other hand went to the doctor’s wrist, however, stopping him from retracting. He studied it for a moment, as though looking for something.

Seras felt a knot form in her stomach.

Jake pulled it a little closer, and the doctor allowed it, his left shoulder now visible. Jake’s head tilted back toward the doctor’s face, the light shining on it for just a moment. And there was nothing but contempt in it, as she saw the little boy raise the pen high into the air, and bring it down on the doctor’s hand. He screamed and tried to yank his hand away, but Jake had it pinned to the table, and dragged it back by the wound until his face was an inch from the doctor’s. His other hand went to the doctor’s throat as he rasped a serrated, hissing voice:

“NEVER use her name.”

Continued....here...

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