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Ruin and Rebirth	By : Kainonis Category: Hellsing > General Views: 1410 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Ruin and Rebirth
- 1
Ruin and Rebirth

Walter
awakens to the unique sensation of rough flesh � calloused fingers, he realizes
� upon his face. A gentle caress, a feather light stroke, but his broken cannot
help but interpret the touch as one of pain. Wincing sharply, he tries to twist
his head away, only to send a jolt of violent pain through his skull. He can
almost feel a disconnection within his bones, a broken spine � something that
should have killed him immediately, and yet he still lives. But it won�t last
for long. Blood gushes around his inert body, life slipping away with every
departing droplet.

It�s
wrong, so terribly wrong to feel blood and organs spilling out of him.
Everything that�s meant to be inside him is caked upon the ground. His blood
evaporates in the midday sun, forever lost. He can almost taste it, his death
almost tangible upon his lips.

The
hands are upon his face again, but it�s significantly less painful. He finds
himself slipping into an uncomfortable numbness, a frightening cold that coils
around his body like a serpent. He wants to struggle, scream, fight, cry,
anything but just lay upon the ground and gaze up at a
pair of dark eyes, but his body doesn�t move. He can�t even bring himself to
twitch.

He
never anticipated Alucard would use his own wires to kill him, but the more he
considers it, the more sense it seems to make. Pride is the undoing of even the
cleverest or strongest of men. Even a lifetime�s worth of knowledge had failed
to teach him this. But now, as he stares into death, it seems to be the only
truth, the most relevant truth. It�s far too late to matter.

Fingers
peel away the wires embedded into the flesh of his cheek, cutting through to
his mouth. Walter feels the sharp wire against his tongue as it�s withdrawn,
but doesn�t taste the cold metal � all he can taste is blood. The life giving
liquid is slowly suffocating him, but he still manages a few sparse gasps every
few moments. The hot burn of asphyxiation is only a secondary pain to the agony
blossoming in ripped tendons and shattered bones. If it brings death faster,
then surely it must be welcome.

Blearily,
he gazes up that the man above him. He cannot find the strength to tell the man
that his attempts to help are meaningless and unwelcome, but Walter is sure he
would fail to heed to something as frivolous as spoken language. And even as
Walter gazes at him, hoping this man will stop demeaning him, he knows his
message is entirely ignored.

He
tries to breathe in, but finds that he cannot. The burn of suffocation rapidly
builds, and suddenly it isn�t a welcome death, it isn�t an invited release.
Walter succumbs to primal panic as the fiery heat envelops his broken body, but
he cannot thrash, he cannot fight. He can only lay
there, feeling every moment stretch from one devastating eternity into the
next, wondering if this is hell.

Rough
hands touch the back of his neck. Surely the Captain feels the snapped bone and
gaping tears, knows that the slightest shift could kill Walter. He cannot
possibly twist Walter�s neck without wrenching his skull from his spine. Walter
knows he�s fragile, falling apart beneath the vicious prison of his own wires,
choking to death on his own tainted blood. Even as he gazes into the Captain�s
dark eyes, he sees himself reflected as the Angel of Death � not a child any
longer, not a mature man. He�s simply an ageless beast again, as he is meant to
die. No innocence, yet no wisdom.

He
feels bitter.

A
finger gingerly parts his lips. Walter can taste warmth and life, traits he no
longer possesses. The finger withdraws after a moment, replaced by soft lips, a
warm tongue pushing deep into his mouth. The kiss is awkward, even painful.
Initially, it seems ridiculous and pointless. The Captain licks his bloodied
teeth and ripped flesh with vigor, almost in a mockery of a kiss. But therein lies the truth.

It
is no kiss. This becomes exceptionally clear with Walter coughs. Broken gasps
of air slip into his drowning lungs. Every moist cough of blood is quickly
lapped away, every wrenching intake of air more satisfying. In time he finds
himself almost breathing normally, the Captain�s tongue still twisting warmly
against Walter�s, catching every stray droplet of blood.

The
tongue slowly withdraws, the Captain ending the unique kiss with a sharp nip
against Walter�s mouth. Affection, certainly not.
Possessiveness is a possibility. It is difficult to interpret the man�s
language � for a creature so socially detached, Walter knows each action must
speak volumes beyond what a simple human can show through contact. But Captain
rarely indulges in even a silent communication.

Being
so horrendously limited, Walter can only respond through similar means. He
gingerly captures the Captain�s lower lip between sharp fangs, licking at the
soft flesh. Warm, alive, blood still pumping through living
tissue and a healthy body.�

There
is a pause, but it is brief. The Captain softly returns the contact,
lips tightening until Walter�s fang delve deep into the flesh of his inner lip.
Delectably thick blood drips down Walter�s throat, leaving a trail of addictive
heat in their wake. Their effect is nearly instantaneous � pleasure power
entrenches his body. He feels his wounds begin to seal, the Captain�s fingers
pulling away wires from his wounds with precise care.

Walter
is hoisted into powerful arms. He winces at the pain the sudden motion brings,
but finds his injuries very much healed, broken bones and gaping wounds sealing
together with ease. All that�s truly left is scars and the utmost exhaustion.
He falls into a dreamless unconsciousness and doesn�t� awaken until the rise of the waning
moon beckons him.

Walter
doesn�t immediately know where they are, but it is silent. A
dark room, an empty blackness beyond the shattered windows. Not the war,
not the remains of the glorious city. The war itself is surely over by now. In
retrospect, it was a very fragile war, coming and going within a single
glorious night. True, the repercussion with never fade, so perhaps the Major�s
planning was naught for a single bloody night, but for an eternity of memories.
This pitiful planet will recall this war longer after the superficial wounds
mend, long after the city is rebuilt.

It�s
impossible to determine just how long that will take, or even if it will
happen. This hell surely does not represent the Earth as a whole � it is simply
too vast a planet to be done away by a single group. But this place is a city
of monsters now, a city of the dead � it is broken. But he does not know the
fate of this place, and the Captain will shed no light on the state of the
world. Walter finds himself surprisingly apathetic to such things now, such
things that once seemed so very important.

Slowly,
Walter pushes himself up, sitting upon a warm bad. A familiar bed, he realized
belatedly. It takes him some time to recall that this is indeed his room, the
room he spent most of his life residing within. Somehow, it feels like he
hasn�t slept in it for years. This place, this home is just another memory he
callously tossed aside in the pursuit of power, in the pursuit of strength. It
means nothing.

The
face that stares back at him from the mirror upon the wall is indeed that of an
ageless man. Perhaps thirty, perhaps younger, perhaps older.
A handsome face, but not a face that shares any of who he is,
what he is. Just like the Captain, his identity is truly ambiguous. It�s
unsettling to him � he almost feels like he�s losing parts of himself in this
new body, this new existence. Traitor, freak, monster
� he is no longer secure within the words that once defined his reality.

It
doesn�t matter. Walter has to firmly remind himself of this, but it still rings
true. It doesn�t matter anymore.

The
Captain comes to him, silent in his seemingly heavy movements, his gaze
revealing nothing of his thoughts. He�s already stripped to the waist, and his
powerful physique only seems to further Walter�s belief that this man is the
truest of monsters. The Captain�s slow breaths spread a pale mist upon the
frigid air; Walter�s breaths do no such thing. When the Captain seats himself
next to Walter, he continues to do nothing but gaze upon him. Although his
expression remains unchanged, Walter knows something is different. The Captain
is asking something of him.

Walter�s
hands move to the buttons of his vest, delicately working them free. The
Captain watches, seemingly impassive, but Walter
detects the way the Captain�s hands clench at his sides. Walter finds himself
smirking, content with the knowledge that the Captain wants him, that he wants
this. Even if it only lust, Walter needs to be needed, needs Captain�s eyes
upon his flesh.

Walter
cannot contain his body�s reaction at being so heavily focused upon, and he
certainly doesn�t miss the way Captain�s eyes trail down his torso, down until
he sees the true level of Walter�s appreciation.

The
shirt comes off next, at a notably faster pace. The air is cold, cold enough to
stimulate even his undead body. Walter had initially intended to strip fully
before initiating contact, but his enticing is clearly too much for the Captain
to resist. Calloused hands grip onto his back, warm and so tender. The
Captain�s head bows against his chest, and Walter can
smell ash and smoke in his pale hair. He buries his face against it, hands
curling around the course locks � it feels like fur.

A
warm mouth latches onto his nipple, powerful fingers massaging against the
small of his back. It�s more contact than Walter has had in many years, and he
hears a vocal moan escape him. It�s an odd thing to hear � Walter had always
been a very silent lover. But it isn�t an unwelcome change, for the sound seems
to spur Captain to tighten his lips around the nub, suckling harder.

Walter�s hands slide down the length of the wolf�s back,
clutching at the warm, soft flesh. He can feel the Captain�s slow exhales
beneath his palms, and he finds that their only language now is one of touch
and pleasure. He moves to caress Captain�s face with his fingertips, the wolf
twisting his head to capture his thumb between sharp teeth, his slick tongue
tracing the pad of Walter�s finger sensuously.

A warm hand slides down his stomach,
gingerly stopping to rest upon Walter�s groin, tracing the outline of hard
flesh. Another uncontrollable whimper escapes Walter�s mouth, and he is
rewarded with a sharp squeeze that sends an unbelievable hot pleasure up his
spine. How long had it been since he�d been touched like this?

Walter doesn�t know what to call the man. He feels the
Captain�s dog tags against his chest, but he doesn�t want to look, doesn�t want
to attach some human identity to this monster. The word �wolf� slips past his
lips, and the Captain doesn�t seem to mind. He continues exploring Walter�s
fingertips with his tongue, eyes lidded.

They take their time, simply enjoying the pleasure of
contact, the feel of gentle caresses. Walter finds himself some time later
naked and on top of Captain, moving on him slowly and sensuously, staring down
at a pair of black eyes that seem to capture him within their harsh gaze. He�s
terribly grateful to have this opportunity, to still live, to still have the
ability to receive such pleasure. He wonders unworriedly if perhaps the
Captain�s healing blood will make him a wolf too. He doesn�t feel any different
than before, but he supposes there may be little difference from one monster to
the next.

Hands cup his face. Rough hands that had
even resisted the harsh cuts of Walter�s wires, calloused and strong.
Walter wonders how hard he works to keep himself as such a strength,
at such a power. Why would this creature work so hard, for so long? What had he
been searching for this in war?

Unanswered questions. Questions that will never be answered. Perhaps it�s better
not to know.

Walter feels the pressure inside him, gradually bringing him
close to the edge. When he finally reaches it, it is unlike anything he�d had
in the past. Perhaps the freedom he feels, perhaps the fascination for this
wolf. Whatever it is, he feels a kind of joy he hasn�t felt before, knowing
that they belong to each other, that there is nothing else now.

There�s a shudder, and the Captain closes his eyes, at the
peak of his pleasure. He doesn�t make a single sound, but his eyelashes flutter
lightly, lips parted � his expression speaks louder than words. Walter doesn�t
allow him long to recover before he kisses him, moving on him again, enticing
his body back to life.

Tomorrow, Walter knows they will leave this place. If
Captain is here with him, it means the Millennium is dead, and Walter knows he
himself cannot stay in this place much long. But it doesn�t matter
anymore.�

They only sleep briefly that night, but it seems like
forever. Captain�s heat warms Walter�s frigid skin, his powerful fingers curled
around Walter�s delicate ones. Despite their exhaustion, they share a few
sparse kisses between moments of sleep. When morning comes again, Walter finds
himself indulging his lust yet again, laying beneath Captain, eyes closed and
fingers curled in warm hair. He remains between waking and sleep, but the
pleasure and joy does not escape him.

They leave Hellsing Manor soon after. None of the masters of
the house have returned, and Walter isn�t sure they ever will. The Captain
grabs him an umbrella as he steps outside, and he is grateful for the
foresight.

The outside world is bright. No � bright isn�t an appropriate
word, he realizes. The world is illuminated, revealing the sheer amount of
ruin.

They walk together. Everything is dead, the monsters, the
humans, the creatures, the trees. Walter feels blood sticking to his boots, but
he�s smiling anyway, umbrella shielding him from the warm sun. They walk
silently through a broken city, alone, but both are content.

There is a road before them, winding and leading far from
the city. Walter isn�t sure where it goes � he�s never gone down it before �
but he can�t bring himself to care. If he is no longer victim to the failings
of Dok�s surgery, then he knows he had all the time in the world to worry about
what�s ahead of him.

For now, he simply enjoys the empty road and the open
sky.�
- 1
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Ruin and Rebirth