AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is how they flirt, or rather how I think they flirt.

Enjoy & Review!

HEARTBEAT

The skies of London were gray as usual, but for once she did not mind.

Integra stepped out of the armored car and opened her black umbrella. The world seemed colorless today. The dull sky echoed the lifeless trees and dying grass. Even she herself, pale hair against head-to-toe black, looked like a figure out of a black-and-white photo. It was all very fitting, somehow, for the cemetery.

Her heel sunk into the mud the moment she stepped inside the gates, and she swore, wishing she’d worn flats. It was the price to be paid for wanting to dress nicely. She felt inside her coat to make sure the small box was tucked tightly in the inside pocket, and made her way deeper inside. There was no sound, not a single singing bird or chirping cricket. Nothing but the soft drizzling melody of rain.

Her father’s gravestone was a plain one. It was average size, kept clean, neat, and simple. The grass around it was always cut, and there were never any flowers around it. Arthur Hellsing never cared for flowers. Her father deserved more. He deserved a monument for all he’d done for this country, but his gravestone was just one among millions. They couldn’t afford to attract attention to his name. The Hellsing organization, after all, was not supposed to exist in the first place. Someday, Integra knew, she would be laid to rest under a similar headstone.

Here Lies Arthur Hellsing

Fearless Leader

Devoted Father

1918-1989

That was all. Nothing more needed to be said.

She had considered asking Walter to join her on the visit, but changed her mind at the last second. She wanted to be alone with her father, a privilege she never got enough of before he was taken from her.

Standing before the grave, she reached into her jacket for the box. It slipped out of her hand and landed in the wet grass. She bent to retrieve it, but a gloved hand beat her to it. Integra smirked.

“When I leave the house without informing you,” she said, “it means you are not invited.”

“And when you leave alone,” replied Alucard, handing the box back to her, “it means you are unprotected. And I would be shirking my duty as your servant to let you go into danger alone.”

Like her, he was colorless. Instead of red, he wore a black coat over his suit, and had replaced his red ascot with a black tie. The only spot of color on him, on the entire gray canvas of the cemetery, were his eyes. Integra took the box from him and place it in front of her father’s gravestone.

“You knew where I was going, didn’t you?”

“I had a hunch. It was cruel of you to leave me, master. I am rather enjoying this little outing.”

“I would hardly call this an outing. And for us humans, death is not something to celebrate. This is not a trip for pleasure.” Droplets of rain were hanging from his black hair. She gestured for him to come close and handed the umbrella to him. He held it over them both.

“What’s in the box?”

“Bullet shells. From the last mission.”

“I thought it was customary to bring flowers.”

“My father was not a customary man.”

She knelt before the gravestone. Alucard held the umbrella over her head as she wiped it off with a handkerchief. “It has been over ten years. Do you still miss him?”

She plucked up a dandelion that had sprouted in front of the stone. “I think I always will. I hold him near and dear to my heart. Haven’t you ever felt that way about anyone?”

“I have seen too many deaths in my time. If I held them all near and dear to my heart there would be no room for anything else.” He snickered. “Besides, not having a beating heart makes that task extra hard.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Integra dusted off her knees and stood. “A beating heart and the emotional heart are two different things. You needn’t have a beating heart to have a feeling heart. The heart you hold others to is the heart that’s seen as the seat of human mind. Do you deny that having both?”

“Human mind. Not having a beating heart precludes me from being human, and thus precludes me from having a heart that seats the human mind. Besides, at the risk of offense, this whole thing of humans holding one another to their heart is not necessarily a beautiful ideal.”

“How so?”

“The heart is merely another organ. Memories are really held in the mind, not the heart. Even if stylized, the heart is not always beautiful. As it is said in the Book of Jeremiah 17:9, ‘heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked’.”

Integra’s eyes widened a bit, which Alucard regarded with a hint of smugness. “I keep forgetting you were once Catholic,” she said.

“My point is, the heart is too romanticized.”

“There is more to the heart than that. The heart reflects human emotions, which are often triggered by actions, pheromones, and memories.” She took the umbrella from him and strolled slowly through the winding path among the gravestones. He followed, seeming not to notice the spots of rain soaking through his coat. “The heart beats when it’s happy, angered, and aroused. It’s directly connected to the mind which holds the memories of our loved ones.”

“You could say that,” said Alucard, slowing his step, trialing one step behind her. “Or you could say the human heart is weak to outside influences, fluttering at any sign of change in emotion.”

“You underestimate our hearts so much?”

Without a warning or sound he slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She gasped softly as he pressed her back against his chest, his face buried in her hair. The umbrella fell to the ground, still propped open.

“Is your heart beating?” he whispered in her ear.

“Let go.”

He wrapped both arms around her shoulders. “I can hear your heart,” he said. “It’s beating more quickly than it was a moment ago. That’s interesting. You are not afraid of me. You have no reason to believe that I would harm you in anyway. You are not bothered by my presence, and yet, your heart beats. Why is that, Integra?”

She bit her lip and clenched her fists, grateful that her hair hid her reddening face.

“Is it because the heart is just that fragile and easily disturbed? Or because…”

“Let go.”

This time he did. Alucard released her and picked up the umbrella on the ground. Avoiding his eyes, Integra snatched it out of his hand in a huff. “Fine,” she said, “the heart is easily disturbed. I will give you that. Let’s go back.”

Grinning smugly, Alucard turned to lead the way. Integra grabbed a handful of his coat from behind and pulled him back. Leaning forward on tipped toes, she handed him the umbrella.

“But there’s something you should know,” she purred, breathing warmly on his neck and feeling him shiver.

“What’s that, master?”

She pushed him. He stumbled and nearly dropped the umbrella again. As he turned, she saw with mild satisfaction the awkward smile on his face.

“Not having this fragile heart doesn’t make you any stronger than me.”

He said nothing, only smiled and held the umbrella for her as they walked, side by side, out of the colorless cemetery.