Disclaimer: Hellsing belongs to Kouta Hirano.

Author's Notes: This is set AU post Millennium war (for I don't know what will happen after Wizardry III), spoilers up to the second chapter of volume 8. This is dedicated to TeaRoses, to cheer her up (or not?). Many thanks to lotus re-incarnate for edit this.


Seras Victoria came to see him everyday.

In the morning, she allowed him to sleep. But there were times Walter could feel her intense stare behind the half opened door as if she was guarding his slumber.

In the afternoon, Seras dropped by to have a conversation with him – or rather a monologue. She told him about many things that had happened: How Alucard had won the war, how Integral had been injured and one day both had disappeared without trace. Walter wanted to reply, to utter a single word to make her notice he was still there. Did she notice? Or was she too occupied to converse with herself?

At night she brought him blood to share. After the war, transfusion bags were sparse and hard to find. The supplies were running out. Seras drank up until half, not wasting a single drop. Then she offered it to him, holding up the package so he would be able to have his meal. Walter tasted her saliva on the plastic and that was more delicious than the blood itself.

When had this all started? Walter wondered.

His infatuation with the young woman had not been there before his capture. Was it because he was chained, secured in a dungeon with holy writs and his only company was hers? Seras was like an angel that had come from Heaven to heal him, the fallen one and the demon.

Walter feared of not being able to break free from the confines of his body ever again, to be rejected. When the sound of her laugh rang through his ears, his blood boiled with desire and jealousy.He had listened to Seras speaking to herself with a French accent.

Walter was afraid to hurt her.

"Walter? Your turn. You must eat," Seras interrupted, offering the half finished package to him. She looked lovely with her stained uniform and crimson gaze, her lips dripping blood. So fragile and yet so strong at the same time. She was no longer a rookie but a mature woman. Walter welcomed the contrast with the narrow cell he was put in. The room was made of grey brick and a steel door. There was no furniture or decor, just himself, Seras, and the bonds that held him.

Walter leaned over to suck the blood obediently.

"I talked with Father Anderson today," Seras trailed off, not paying heed to his appraising of her. He ached to reach for her skin and caress it. "He'll come tomorrow to visit us. He told me that may have found a clue where Master took Sir Integral. And to do his… stuff again. Those bonds need to be blessed on occasion to work..."

As Seras continued her chatter, Walter's mouth moved slowly from the plastic bag to her fingers, brushing them with his lips until they descended on her wrist. Her scent called to him. To mark her with his and to erase that man's blood smell. His jaws tensed before he opened his mouth and struck as fast as a snake, sinking his fangs, breaking the layers of her skin.

Seras cried out his name – in surprise, in agony, and in pleasure. She seemed dazzled and confused. That encouraged him to swallow greedily the mouthfuls of her blood, until a sharp pain on his left arm stopped him. His body soon connected with the wall behind him, the bonds that held him ripped out. Dumbfounded, Walter recovered to see Seras threateningly swirling her shadow trump.

"I won't let you hurt her!" Seras declared with a deep growl, dripping on a foreign accent. He snarled in return, recognizing who his rival was and lunged over the female vampire in a blink of an eye. Walter was a younger Undead, but a more apt fighter. His hands fabricated the monowire to trap his pray. The metal cut the lovely skin on her arm, abdomen, neck, and legs. Soon enough, her blood covered that man's scent. He inhaled deeply, satisfied.

"Walter! Stop!" Her desperation was evident. It was Seras' this time. Walter looked down to her through dull, red eyes.

She was part of Hellsing.

She was an enemy that should be destroyed.

He wanted her and would take her. His foe would suffer at his pleasure.

Within his mind, the real Walter fought against the blocks that the Millennium Group placed on his system. To the brainwashing and his dark instincts. He managed to paralyse his limbs for a second, stopping whatever foul actions he was doing to Seras.

Walter did not dare to guess what he was doing. He was frightened of himself. That was his cruel side, his own dark impulses that in occasion came out. As much as he wanted to blame Millennium, the Nazis only directed them against other targets but that beast was himself.

His control slipped and the body was now slashing Seras, tearing apart both skin and clothes. The miniskirt he had ordered to be made for her when she joined the Organisation was being reduced to tatters. Walter wanted to make her happy. Why was she crying? He drank her tears, taking them with his long tongue.

No. No. No Seras was suffering. It was wrong.

He could not bear how he was hurting her anymore.

Walter was uncertain where he had mustered the strength to destroy the blocks. It was born by a basic instinct older than science. His emotional cry extended through his body and ended with his own right fist going through his chest. That was followed by his vitality fleeing his form, his sight worsening, and his teeth shifting to blunt as he sensed his skin withering.

Agonizing, Walter collapsed over Seras' wounded body. His fingers buried in his chest sensed the rumble of his heart, rekindling life again only to quickly abandon it. As Seras stirred beneath him, she straightened and acquired a sitting position. Her eyes were defensive, protective, alien to Police Girl's. Pip's gaze.

"I w-wish…" Walter blurted out, choking on his own blood. It tasted sour and he disliked the flavour now. "I w-wish t-to h-have d-died t-o protect her. I w-wanted to be a hero… just like y-you…" He smiled bitterly, lowering his eyelids. That the Mercenary died with dignity after a life of crime and a war hero's existence ended like that. It was cruel irony. "I fai-." He was not able to finish as her lips descended on his in a gentle kiss. Her tears dripped on his cheeks like cold rain, refreshing his burnt body.

"You were a hero," Seras assured him, stroking his hair, cradling his broken body and bringing him close to her. "You saved me from yourself."

After his life had gone out, Seras dipped her head on him again. Her kiss was different, deeper, all consuming. Even in his death numbness, his soul experienced vividly the trip from his body towards hers.