Hellsing, and all it's characters, are property of someone else, and I'm using them without permission.  Sorry!

This fic is mostly about Celas, post anime series so beware of spoilers, with some violence in the later chapters and sexual innuendo just popping out everywhere!  But just innuendo, for the most part.

Enjoy!

Moonlit Midnight

Chapter One:  Unexpected Visitations

Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing could not hide the tiny, relieved smile that flickered over her lips as she slipped into her familiar leather office chair.  The contours still fit perfectly to her weary body, and she could still smell the leftover fragrance of her favorite cigars.  Her office had been meticulously cleaned in her absence—by Walter, judging by the arrangement of her desktop items—and a few things replaced, but she would take note of them later.  For now, sitting here in her usual stiff uniform, in a room she had missed, suffering the same creeping fatigue brought on by a trying day's hardships…it felt as if nothing had changed, and she was inexplicably happy.

From the doorway, Walter observed her satisfaction with a carefully concealed smile of his own. "Will you be needing anything, Lady Integra?" he asked with a subtle bow.

"No, Walter.  I'll be retiring soon."  Integra sat up a bit straighter, glancing briefly over the stack of papers that had been left for her.  All her instincts instructed that her attention be devoted to the many reports in full—the rest of her rebelled.  "This may be work for the evening.  It's been a long night."

Walter nodded.  "I am relieved to hear as much.  In that case, I will have your room prepared, and a bath drawn, if you so require."

"Yes, I would appreciate it."  She rubbed vaguely at the freshly healed scar that ran along her throat.  "I'll be there shortly.  Please make sure no one disturbs me."

"Yes, Lady Integra."  Walter bowed, and departing, softly closed the office door behind him.

Integra sighed quietly and allowed herself to relax once more.  It was quiet here—the kind of still quiet she had not found in a prison cell for the past four weeks.  In the end it had taken all her political connections and a dangerously played display on Alucard's part to convince the Parliament of her institute's necessity.  Even now their complete funding had not been restored, and in all likelihood would not be in the foreseeable future. 

"It seems our Institute is once again dependant on civilians," Integra murmured, sifting half-heartedly through the top stack of papers.  She let them fall from her hands with a quiet sigh.  "Not today, not today."

"Certainly not on your first day home."

Integra did not even glance up at first—she had been expecting him to show up sooner or later.  She snorted quietly.  "It's ironic," she remarked, "that after how adamantly I defended my ability to kill vampires, I am welcomed home by one."

Alucard chuckled, his deep voice echoing as he stepped into form beside her desk.  Hat and glasses shed, he fixed her with a crooked grin.  "The place was quiet without you," he informed her.

"As it should be.  Though I don't suppose you came up here just to tell me that."  She waved a hand vaguely at the window.  "It's almost dawn."

"I wanted to warn you," he replied.  His eyes thinned subtly as he enjoyed some private joke.

Integra snorted, about to demand an explanation when her desk phone rang.  She easily caught Alucard's triumphant expression as she lifted the receiver to her ear.  "This is Hellsing," she stated briskly.  It certainly was an inconvenient time for someone to call—not even five in the morning.

"It's good to finally hear your voice, Integra," the other end spoke, and Integra's fingers tightened reflexively.  She glared sharply at Alucard, which gained her only an insolent grin in return.

"Perhaps I was a little late," the vampire admitted.

"This is no business of yours," she hissed in reply, for a moment forgetting the receiver at her mouth.  The man's chuckle quickly reminded her.  "Not you, Zimmerman."

"That's some way to great an old friend," he accused.  "Is that Alucard with you?  Send him my regards."

"That won't be necessary."  Integra transferred her attention back to Alucard, her gaze lethal.

Alucard chuckled, all too amused as he stepped away from the desk.  "Very well, my master.  I await your next orders."  Ironic grin still in place, he vanished into the gradually diminishing shadows.

Having waited patiently on the line, Jacob Zimmerman cleared his throat.  "I hope this isn't a bad time," he offered.  "I heard you'd been released, and I knew I wouldn't be able to catch you after the sun was up."

Integra sank into her chair, wishing suddenly for a cigar.  There was something about speaking to this man that always made her crave a smoke; sometimes just thinking of him.  "It's all right, Jacob; I'm just tired.  I won't be much of a conversation partner to you."

"Understandably," he conceded.  "You should know, everyone here in Washington heard about what happened—at least, what is assumed.  It wasn't until we heard about your being taken into custody that we knew about the vampires."

"It wasn't vampires," Integra contradicted.  She was growing tired of these explanations.  "Come on, Jacob, you know better than that.  Alucard took care of it—there's nothing left to talk about on the matter."

"Of course."  Despite herself, Integra smiled—she could almost imagine the thoughtful look that must have accompanied his tone of voice.  "Which is part of the reason I called.  You see, my superiors have authorized a mission to London—to bring relief to your institute."

Integra's eyes narrowed slightly as she considered the weight in those words.  "Mithril 6 is coming here?"  She snorted incredulously.  "No offense, Jacob, but Hellsing has survived on its own for a hundred years now.  I appreciate the offer, but again, you should know better."  At last she gave in, digging through her drawer for a cigar and lighter.  "Besides, your boss, Sanfeld, never seems to enjoy himself when I'm around."

Jacob laughed.  "Because you called him a Godless pig-bastard when we were younger."

"Hmph.  And I thought you Americans were used to receiving insults."  She sucked lightly on her cigar; somehow it tasted infinitely richer than from within her cell.  "But honestly, I wish you wouldn't decide these things for yourself," she continued. "I can't accept—"

"A battalion of 30 trained soldiers, 100 rifles with 25 crates silver ammunition, medical supplies, computer equipment?  It's all here, Integra."

Integra leaned forward very slowly, as her mind was spinning.  The kind of aid Jacob was talking about…did not exist.  Not even between fellow institutes; not even between them.  Not for free, anyway.  A dull anger began to swirl in her gut at the thought of her old comrade blatantly using her this way.  "What is it we're really talking about here?" she asked dangerously.

Jacob's tone sobered.  "About getting the Hellsing Institute back on its feet," he replied without falter. "You're in trouble, Integra—even the vampires here can smell it.  You need our help this time.  And I think you already know what we want in return."

Integra pursed her lips slightly.  "Yes, I know."

"In that case, we'll finish this in London," Jacob continued.  "We're not like Iscariot—all we want is to kill vampires, just like you.  And even if it's just this once, maybe we can help each other.  We've even already cleared it with your superiors."  There was a pause at the other end, and Integra bit lightly on the edge of her cigar, dreading what else he might add.  "Besides, I'm looking forward to seeing you again.  It's been almost two years."

"Yes, it has."  Integra released a breath of smoke and watched it curl towards the ceiling.  All those supplies…for the sake of those loyal to her, she could afford to forgo her pride for now.  "All right, I trust you," she decided at last.  "We'll continue this once you've arrived.  But leave Varjak out of this," she added, "or I can't guarantee anything."

Jacob sighed.  "Sorry, but neither can I, where Varjak is concerned.  I don't have the rank.  But we're not coming to start a fight with Hellsing."

Integra snorted; she there was more to this after all.  "Not with Hellsing," she echoed.  "Well, then, you will be well received."  And God help them, if he was lying to her. "I'll meet you this evening, since I assume you meant right away."

"All right."  He chuckled.  "I'm glad you're being reasonable about this.  I'd prepared myself for quite an argument."

"It's been a long night."  Integra tapped her cigar against the desktop ashtray.  Though she would never admit it, she was not entirely adverse to seeing him again, in addition to the temptation of his offers.  "And you've never been able to lie to me, so there's no use debating over it."

"I'm glad you see it that way." Jacob's voice was genuinely pleased, and something about it made her lips curl in a wry smile.  "Tonight, then.  Sweet dreams."  And before she could protest, he had hung up.

Integra sighed, listening to the dial tone a moment before setting the receiver back in its cradle.  Her cigar followed its example a moment later.  Jacob Zimmerman—she had known him since they were children, when both their fathers met in circumstances very similar to these now.  And though both now had succeeded their fathers by nearly a decade, their correspondence had not waned.   There were even occasions, when her mood was favorable, that she could admit to being quite fond of him.

Integra sighed faintly with her reminiscences.  Despite a faint uncertainty she would be admittedly pleased to see him again.  And the sooner his people had come and gone, the sooner Hellsing could return to proper duties.

She left her office just as the sun began to spread its dull stain over the eastern hills, seeking her rest.

----

"You had better wake up, Celas.  You'll miss the show."

Celas Victoria opened her eyes and, predictably enough, was met only with the pitch black of her coffin.  "Master?"  She still had not gotten used to the idea of her Master speaking to her so unexpectedly—with her name, even less.  Whatever she had done to earn that respect from him, she was glad for it.  "What's going on?"  She fumbled for her bed switch, slipping out as soon as there was space for it.  She scratched at the back of her head and yawned.  "Master?" she asked again when no response.

But Alucard did not speak again, and with a blush and a pout Celas changed into her uniform.  As always, Walter had left several candles burning by which to light her way.  "What does he mean, show?" she muttered to herself as she tugged her stockings over her knees.  "Knowing Master, it could be anything.  Even…."  She paled suddenly, and hurried into the rest of her uniform.  It would be just like Alucard to leave only a cryptic message like that when they were under attack, or embarking on some fierce mission.  Trusting that if that were the case her artillery would have been already prepared for her, she dashed out of her room and to the upper levels.

There were no prepared soldiers to greet her once she reached the first floor, no alarms, and—thankfully—no ghouls.  In fact, there was no one.  She easily heard, however, a roar of truck engines, and men's voices shouting.  Slinging her rifle over her shoulder she investigated.

Celas followed her ears outside, and sure enough found her missing comrades.  They were waiting in the front courtyard, Integra at the head with Walter just beside her.  Three enormous trucks were sliding to a halt, lights piercing what would otherwise have been a calm night.  Squinting, Celas ventured into the fray just as men began to pile out of the vehicles.  "Master?" she called softly.  She could not locate him in the crowd.  "What's going on?"

"Company," Alucard's voice came floating back to her, though she could still no determine his location.  Instead she started towards Integra.  "A battalion from Mithril 6."  The vampire's deep laughter filled her ears as if he were at her side.  "American vampire hunters."

"Mithril 6?  I've never heard of them…."  Though admittedly Celas knew very little of America as a whole, except for a few selections of music she caught on the late-night radio.  She watched with great interest as the men began to pile out, each carrying boxes and crates that were handed to the nearest Hellsing officer.  "They're supplies," she mused aloud, catching a glimpse of one of the crates.  The Americans had sent them aid.  "Why?  They're helping us?"  She shivered a little.  "I didn't think Hellsing got along with other institutes."

Again Alucard's voice came to her in a chuckle.  "It doesn't.  Our good Lady makes an exception when this particular institute is concerned."

"Why?"  Celas started forward again, but a gloved hand fell heavily on her shoulder, and she jumped.  She sun about quickly to face the abrupt presence.  "Master, don't scare me," she accused lightly.

"Stay here for now," Alucard instructed her. "These Americans aren't used to working with vampires, and we won't be welcomed."  Smirking in amusement, he indicated for her to look for herself.  "Especially that one."

Celas did look, and was met almost immediately by a pair of pale gray eyes fixated on her.  The woman they belonged to could not have been any older than Celas herself, dressed in a bizarre outfit of baggy jeans, dark T-shirt, and denim vest.  Straggly red hair stuck out from under a wool cap.  She looked like some kind of city punk, by Celas's standards, and she frowned in disapproval.  The woman was glaring at them.  Celas snorted indignantly.  "What's she got to be huffy about?" she muttered.  "Staring at us like that.  We're Hellsing officers, too, after all."  She crossed her arms.  "She doesn't even know us."

"She's the daughter of a priest," Alucard explained.  He was smiling, as if he found the whole concept quite amusing.  "Her father blesses her ammunition for her.  It's rather bothersome."

Celas hummed thoughtfully.  "Have…you fought her, Master?"

"Something like that."

It was not a very descriptive answer, but she knew better than to persist.  Her gaze wandered back over the crowds of soldiers and the supplies they unloaded, landing at last on Integra.  She was shaking the hand of an older man dressed in a dark suit, with another, younger man nearby.  "What about those men?" she asked curiously.

"Mark Sanfeld and Jacob Zimmerman, the commander of Mithril 6 and his assistant.  This entire parade was here about two years ago for a little visit."

"Hmm."  There was something a bit odd about their commander, Celas noticed, when she went to shake Jacob's hand—she seemed more relaxed, less formal.  But she kept her thoughts to herself, not wanting to offend her Master. "You're not going over there?"

"No, I don't think so.  This isn't my concern."  Alucard stepped back, his form fading—and then he was gone.

Celas sighed, wishing she had the luxury of just slipping away. This sentiment only increased when she saw that Integra and her two guests were approaching.  She made a quick effort to fix her appearance.  "Sir," she greeted stiffly.

Integra nodded vaguely.  "Gentlemen," she introduced formally, "this is one of our officers—Celas Victoria.  I'd like you to mention her to your men for while they're here."

The elder man, Mark Sanfeld, was a stout, thick-jawed man with dark hair and a thin mustache.  His eyes bore harshly into Celas as he looked her over.  "I see," was all he said, and the officer in question tried not to cringe beneath his heavy stare.

Brown-haired, clean-shaven Jacob Zimmerman was another matter.  He extended his hand to be shaken, which Celas carefully complied to.  "It's good to see you're on our side, Miss Victoria," he said pleasantly.

"Thank you, sir," she replied crisply.  Though when she thought about it, there was not much else of an alternative.

"You won't have to worry about our men mistaking you for an enemy," Sanfeld added, "as long as they are not provoked."

This time, Celas could not hide her indignation.  "I have no intention of provoking anyone, sir."

"Good.  Then I won't worry about it, either."

Integra glanced between the trio, giving no indication of whether or not she was pleased by their introductions.  "Victoria, you are dismissed.  Assist in unloading the vehicles—Commander Wellerune will give you further instructions."

"Yes, sir."  Celas saluted, and with one last glance at the two Americans trotted off to join the group.

Integra watched her go, taking careful note of the wary stares the girl received from their American guests.  She had expected as much—no other institute in the world would have dared to tame a vampire as their own, let alone two.  She indulged in a momentary feeling of pride before drawing her focus in.  "You needn't worry about Victoria," she told the pair.  "As a vampire, she's harmless."

"I said I wasn't worried," Sanfeld replied shortly.  "She's your responsibility, not ours.  And I think we all have more important concerns."

Hellsing's leader lifted an eyebrow slightly.  "Of course.  Though I never expected you would come yourself, Sir.  I suppose I should be flattered by your concern for our institute."  Her gaze found Jacob—she knew he, at least, would not be able to lie to her.  "Though I suspect you gentlemen have more to tell me."

Jacob swept a thin lock of dark chestnut hair out of his face.  "We do," he conceded.  "But it can wait for a little while.  Best to discuss it by morning."

Integra snorted—she should have known it would be about Alucard.  And though she never liked the idea of hiding things from Hellsing's strongest ally, she trusted the serious expression on Jacob's face.  "Just remember that this is still my Institute," she told them curtly.  "And I do not appreciate being played.  If I don't like what you tell me, I'll pack your trucks back up myself, if I have to."

"Believe me, that won't be necessary," Jacob quickly interjected.  "Let's just worry about helping your men for now."

Still wary, Integra agreed.  "Very well.  At dawn, then."

----

Celas aided in the unloading, her strength coming in handy especially with the larger crates.  Despite her diligent work, she could easily feel the many eyes on her back; some accusing, some curious, some even frightened.  Alucard's words remained with her as she attempted to ignore them.  She had spent so much time around her fellow officers, killing other vampires, that sometimes she forgot she was one of them.  But here, with dozens of eyes fixed on her, their murmurs in her ears…and it was not helping that she had not fed lately.  With London still healing, donated blood to feed vampires was in short supply.

"But then, Master must be having a harder time than me," she murmured under her breath as she made her way to the back of the last truck. "He actually likes…."  Celas trailed off when she saw the last bit of cargo—a freezer, as tall as her, wedged in the corner.  Frowning, she investigated.  As soon as the dull freezer light flooded into the empty truck bed she froze, eyes fixing on racks of crimson-filled plastic bags.  Blood….  Unwillingly she licked her lips, and a moment later realized her hand was curled around one of the packets.  She jerked back guiltily. 

"Don't bother," a voice sounded icily behind her.  "They brought it for you, after all."

Celas spun around, angry with herself for letting her preoccupation with the blood interfere with her senses.  Any remark she had planned died on her lips when she realized who it was—the scruffy-looking woman her master had warned her about.  She gulped. "Can I help you?"

The woman sauntered over, her steps heavy like those of a man.  "Go ahead," she prodded, shouldering past Celas to the fridge.  She flicked it open and removed one of the blood packets.  "Sanfeld's lackey is quite the liberalist.  I think he actually likes your kind—brought these as a kind of host gift for Alucard."  She scowled bitterly.

Celas pursed her lips, trying not to look at the item she held.  She didn't quite believe her—Mithril 6 had no reason to pamper vampires, did it?  Even one like Alucard.  It must have been brought for the infirmary, but Celas still found she couldn't take her eyes off it.  "Could you put that away, please?  I'd like to unload it."

But the woman didn't reply, moving her hand deliberately over the plastic seam.  "No one will notice, if one or two are missing."

"Please stop that," Celas said crossly, curling her hands into fists at her sides.  "I have no intention of stealing any, thank you very much."

She snorted, and looked ready to reply when Captain Thorn peered inside.  She slid the packet into her vest front just fast enough to avoid it being seen.  "Are you all right in there?" the captain called tersely.  "We're waiting."

"Ah, I'm very sorry, sir," Celas answered, snapping to attention.  "We'll have it right out."

The captain regarded her curiously a moment, and at last withdrew.  She sighed in relief.  "Now," she continued, "please put that back.  We'll be reprimanded."

The woman snorted in disgust, but tossed the blood bag at her on her way out.  She didn't speak again, but the last gaze she cast was enough to make Celas' flesh crawl.

"Who the hell does she think she is?" Celas muttered once she'd left.  "Assuming things like that.  I might be thirsty, but I'm not…."  She paused, staring down at the plastic container she still held.  If what the American had said was true….there was no need for her to wait, was there?  And the bags weren't labeled…certainly misplacing one would raise no stir.

Despite her denial of the American's stereotype, despite her own better judgment, Celas unbuttoned the front of her uniform and slipped the bag inside.  Once she had concealed it well enough she began to slide the refrigerator towards the truck's exit.  Rationalizing her theft was a simple matter.  Meeting the eyes of her fellows, however, was somewhat different.

----

An hour later, Celas was back in her room; the supplies had been unloaded and distributed, and the officers were enjoying a bit of relaxation before they were made to continue work.  Celas had no heart to join them; she sat on the edge of her bed, focused on the gentle weight against her chest that rose and fell with every breath.  "I shouldn't have," she muttered, poking at the bag idly.  "It's not like I'm a wild animal, is it?  Just because I'm thirsty doesn't mean I'm desperate, after all."

Celas unbuttoned the front of her uniform, and removed the cause of al her worrying.  "It's just blood," she told herself deftly.  "Donated.  For you.  There's no use worrying now about where it came from."  She took a deep breath, but stopped herself once more.  A childish grin spread across her face.  "Maybe…I'll give it to Master.  I wonder if…."  She lifted her head.  "Master?"

As she had nearly expected, a moment later Alucard's familiar voice was in her ears.  "Perhaps you're finally getting used to me spying on you," he teased.  She turned to find him seated at her desk, reclining casually.  He grinned.

Celas smiled to see him in good spirits.  Usually Alucard kept himself rather scarce when the Institute received visitors of any kind; understandably so.  After her experience earlier, Celas was in no hurry to return to duty herself.  "I shouldn't have this," she said hesitantly, offering her crude prize.  "But…would you like some…?  Neither of us have eaten well for a while, after all…."

"Oh?  How generous of you."  The candlelight reflecting off his glasses prevented Celas from seeing his eyes, but she could easily tell the heavy focus of his gaze.  He was just as eager as she was.  And she was almost ashamed to be disappointed when he accepted.  Handing the small meal over, she couldn't help but watch, lips pressed, as he punctured the plastic with his incisors and sucked half the bag dry in one breath.  Amazing…how he could look so dignified even with such an act.

Alucard noticed her lingering stare, and with a soft chuckle offered the last half back to her.  "Your body needs the strength more than mine."

"Master…."  Celas faltered a moment, a bit embarrassed by how blatantly her hunger was showing.  She had vowed not to let her instincts get the better of her, and yet she did not hesitate in accepting the blood, gulping it down.  It wasn't until afterwards that she realized they had drank from the same packet, and she blushed.  "Um…thank you, Master."

Alucard regarded her silently a moment—curiously, his head cocked to the side.  Celas did her beset not to fidget.  Whatever he was thinking, it had stolen a bit of the humor from his expression, and that concerned her more than anything.  At long last he leaned back, smiling once more.  "I don't suppose you've been testing your new powers lately, have you?" he asked.

Celas blinked in confusion.  "Powers…?" she echoed.  She thought briefly about the time she had seen Alucard unleash his power…the few times that she had lost herself in fighting the ghouls…and shuddered.  "Um…."

Alucard pushed to his feet, and without really thinking she did the same—quickly and awkwardly, her weight shifting from foot to foot.  She felt oddly high-strung that evening; though her appetite had been satiated for a while, the blood was too small amount to ease the tension of days gone without.  Certainly that was the cause.

"As a vampire, you should at least know a few tricks," Alucard was saying, moving deliberately to the wall.  "Incognito was the worst we'll see for a while, I'd warrant, but Integra did say to train you properly."  He snorted humorously, as if enjoying some private joke.  He then reached his hand out, sliding it over, then through the stone wall. 

Celas made a doubtful face.  "Master, you don't…really think I can do that…do you?"

"You're of a higher level than those freaks," he replied simply.  "Come here."

Celas obeyed, even if her steps were a bit uncertain, her expression unconvinced.  Under Alucard's instruction she removed her glove and pressed her palm flat against the wall.  But the rock was rough and cold beneath her skin, and no amount of pushing could change that.

Alucard watched her a while —seemingly quite amused, but also scrutinizing—before offering any aid.  "Not even a vampire could budge that rock easily," he told her knowingly.  "You're not trying to enter the wall—you're twisting space.  The wall has nothing to do with it."

Celas' face twisted again.  "Then why am I—"

"Someone once told me it's easier for a new vampire to learn if they start with something solid," Alucard explained.  "If you can see the spell, you can work it more easily."  He snorted quietly.  "It's second nature to me, so I wouldn't know."

Celas frowned, tracing idle shapes in the wall.  She appreciated her Master's help—indeed, was flattered by all this unusual attention he was showing her—but if he was simply bragging….  She pursed her lips and concentrated again.  If she could see the spell…if she could will her hand to pass through….

"Master, I'm no good at this," Celas sighed diffidently.  "I don't know anything about spells and magic."

His gloved hand fell over hers, and she jumped, startled by the feel of rough material against her skin.  Too embarrassed to let him see the sudden blush in her cheeks, she ducked her head.  Alucard was acting very odd that night, coming down here.  Though she should have been pleased, something about having him so close made her stomach dance.

A dull warmth spread through her fingers, and when Celas blinked her sight returned to see only black shadow where her hand had been.  She gasped quietly—she was through the rock.  Eyes wide, she moved her hand slightly, watching as undulating black followed, rippling across the stone.  "Master!" she declared excitedly, stretching and wiggling her fingers.  When Alucard pulled his own hand back, hers stayed.  Thrilled, she withdrew and phased through the wall once more, on her own.  "I did it!  Master, I did it!"

Alucard nodded, watching as she repeated her success several times over.  He stopped her suddenly, pinning her palm against now solid rock.  She gulped, and turned her gaze slowly upward.  "Master…?"

At first no response came, and Celas shifted nervously.  She was about to inquire again when Alucard said, "You're going to have to be careful when you go outside for a while."

Celas frowned, bewildered, as she met his eyes.  "Um…what do you mean?"

Alucard smiled, but it was a strange sort of expression she had not seen on him before.  He almost looked embarrassed, the thought of which was baffling.  "Celas," he began carefully.  "There are a few things I should explain to you."

Celas nodded, transfixed by the odd look her master bore, the gentle pressure on her hand.  "All right," she murmured vaguely.

"For the next two months or so, you're going to be under the influence of what we vampires call Bright Midnight," Alucard explained.  "Your powers will increase, but you should also find yourself craving blood more often."

Celas' face twisted in discontent; the last thing she needed was to become even more desperate than she was now.  Already the thought of blood was making her anxious, and unwillingly her mouth began to water.  She shook her head.  "But why?  What's…happening to me?"

"There's nothing wrong—it's perfectly natural for females, and it only happens about once or twice every few centuries."  Again Alucard paused, and when he tilted his chin up the candlelight reflected oddly against his pale skin.

"Master," Celas accused incredulously, "are you blushing?"

He coughed sharply, withdrawing his hand from hers at last.  Deliberately he removed his glasses so that their eyes could meet—she started a bit at the gesture.  "What it means," he stated, attempting to be serious, "is that your body is fertile."

"Fer...fertile?" Celas echoed.  Her eyes went wide, and without thinking she took a step back.  Whatever she had been expecting, this certainly wasn't it.  Sputtering and confused, she shook her head.  "M-Master, what are you talking about?"

Alucard smiled boyishly.  "Vampires can only conceive children during Bright Midnight," he elaborated.  "Your body wants a child."  He paused, considering.  "You could think of it as being like…a cat in heat."

"A…a cat?"  Celas continued to shake her head.  "This is crazy—this doesn't make sense.  I'm…my body…."  A blush stretched from her face to her ears and all down her neck.  "Couldn't you have said it some other way?"

Despite the awkwardness of their situation, Alucard couldn't help but laugh at her stunned and disgruntled face.  "Maybe.  But do you understand?"

"I…."  Suddenly feeling far too self-conscious, she crossed her arms over her chest.  And she realized, then, the cause of Alucard's attention to her that night.  She ducked her head, shoulders hunching in embarrassment.  "You…."  When her voice squeaked she cleared her throat and tried again.  "But you could tell…?"

He laughed again, mischievously.  "By tomorrow night, every vampire in the city will be able to tell."

"Oh geez…."  Celas covered her face, sure by now that she was glowing.  "You're joking, right?  This…this can't be right."  But when she sought Alucard's expression through her fingers, she knew better than to doubt the subtle humor hidden there.  Alucard didn't lie.  With a groan she leaned back against the wall.  "Why me?  Wait…doesn't that mean…."  She gulped.  "Other vampires will come after me?"

Alucard nodded.  Something was gleaming in his eyes, something…akin to the way he looked before a meal.  "Without fail."

Celas groaned again; by now she was convinced her cheeks would never return to their normal shade.  "I can't believe this," she muttered. "I haven't even been on a date in months—now I'm gonna have vampires crawling all over me?"  The image that produced was too much for her, and with an exaggerated sigh she flopped onto her bed.  "This is not the impression I wanted to give to our new commander…."

Alucard was still smiling, much to her disapproval.  "Which is why I'm warning you."

"Hmm…."  Celas frowned, wondering vaguely exactly how much of an effect her…condition…was having on her master.  As a high level vampire, certainly things like that did not apply to him.  Did they?  "Well," she said, sitting up.  "I guess I should tell Lady Integra." She shuddered at the thought.  "But I can't imagine her—"

"No," Alucard interrupted firmly.  She fell quickly silent beneath the sharp look cast in her direction.  "Don't speak of it."  As if realizing how serious he had sounded just then, his voice softened, and he smiled thinly.  "This is not for humans to know."

"But…won't everyone notice?" Celas asked quietly.  She didn't want to contradict him, but it seemed like a pertinent concern.  "Lady Integra knows a lot about vampires, after all…."

"That's why you have to be careful."  Alucard stepped closer, making sure she made no mistake in his words.  "There are a great many secrets we vampires have kept from humans over the centuries.  It's important that they know no more than we let them."

"I…guess so."  Celas glanced away uncomfortably.  "After all this time, she still had a bit of trouble when he spoke of humans like that—as if she was so much further from them.  It still frightened her, despite her best efforts.  "I'll try.  I really will."  Her eyes thinned.  "Does this mean…when I was able to do the spell just now…that was because I've gained power for now?"

"Probably," Alucard affirmed.  "That spell should have been too difficult for you, as you are now."

"Oh."  The small excitement of her success fled, and she sighed quietly.  "I just…thought I could be some use to you, for once."

Alucard chuckled.  "What are you talking about?"

"Hm?  Oh, nothing.  Nothing at all."  Celas laughed nervously, forcing herself to sit up a bit straighter.  "I guess I'll just have to deal with it, then.  Oh boy…."

Alucard's boots tapped against the stone, and a moment later she felt his hand alight on the top of her head.  She jumped and caught her breath.  "I'll be staying close to you during this," he told her.  "You could say that Bright Midnight brings out the best in all of us.  We'll be putting on quite a show, hm?"  He leaned forward to see her face.

Celas gulped as her ears burned, and she shifted anxiously on the bed.  Alucard hadn't been this close to her since the first night they'd met.  "Um…I guess…." she whispered.

"Alucard smirked and recoiled, allowing her a full breath.  "Well then, I think I'll check on our generous guests."  He took a step back, already fading gradually into the shadows.

Celas lifted her head, jaw working on a response with no words.  Before she could think of anything to say, he had left.  She sighed.  "Master…Alucard…."  She scooted back on the bed and tucked her knees up under her chin.  "A cat in heat," she muttered moodily.  "What a thing to say, really.  Though…now that I think of it, I haven't had a…."  She stopped, glancing about in suspicion just to make sure Alucard wasn't still hanging around.  But she heard nothing.  "Stupid vampires.  How am I supposed to get any work down if they're hitting on me?"

It seemed too ridiculous to imagine, and she sighed, forcing the images from her mind.  Only one remained—Alucard, leaning over her, lips quirked.  It made her insides curl once more.  "Oh, stop that—your body's playing tricks on you."  But it was no use—she was still restless.  With a groan she pushed to her feet and decided to get out for a bit.  Maybe Walter would even have a proper meal for her.

To Be Continued….