Who Am I? Redux

Disclaimer: I didn't Create Hellsing, I don't own it.

Note From Chris: Those of you who have been reading my works since I started posting here some three or four years ago are probably looking at this right now going, "wait didn't he finish this story already?"

The answer is no. Wile the story was given an ending, it was FAR from finished. What you are about to read is Who Am I? As I first intended. Wile the core of the story is the same, many other things have changed. So to those of you coming back to this story, welcome back. And to those of you reading for the first time, enjoy.

Chapter 1: Waking up in Strange Places

Her head was pounding; it felt like someone was trying to shatter her brain with a jackhammer.

Slowly she began to sit up, pressing one hand firmly against her forehead, trying to rub away the pain. Muffled sounds that she couldn't distinguish filled her ears. She opened her eyes; the world looked like a painting where all the colors had run together. She closed them again.

A voice echoed somewhere in the back of her mind, drowning out the pain, "Are you awake now, Police Girl?"

Her eyes snapped open and the world slid into focus. The room was small, sparsely furnished. Aside from the small bed she sat on, there was nothing, no windows, no carpet, only the bed.

Outside she could hear rain pounding down, beating against the roof. Cracks of light crept across the floor from under the door opposite the bed, but it wasn't enough to reveal the room. So why could she see it all clear as day?

Her lips parted, her voice calling out to the voice in his mind, "Who are you?"

A deep chuckle filled her head, "You know full well who I am Police Girl. Or maybe you've forgotten," Again the voice chuckled, "have you forgotten yourself as well."

She opened her mouth to respond, to tell this voice in her head that she knew who she was, but she drew a blank. Her mouth moved trying to form words, trying to force out some kind of response.

Again in her head she heard the chuckle; slowly that chuckle began to intensify into the maniacal laughter of a mad man, "It seems the truth has escaped you Police Girl."

"Who am I?" her voice was barely above a whisper.

"If you can't remember yourself, then why should I tell you?"

She wasn't sure how long she sat there hugging her knees, listening to the rain fall outside. At some point she had thought she heard a door open and close somewhere near by followed by foot steps, but had heard nothing since. Fingers encased in dirt spattered white gloves picked at the holes in her black stockings.

The answers she wanted didn't seem to be in the torn fabric, and the quick look over she had given herself gave no real answers either. The blue one piece uniform she wore was torn in several places as well, exposing smooth, pale skin beneath. A mix of blood and dirt littered the uniform, and just above the right breast pocket was a patch, two red spaces and two black spaces. The only name that had been revealed by her quick look over was revealed on that patch in yellow lettering, 'Hellsing.'

Was that who she was?

Was Hellsing her name?

The voice in her head had called her 'Police Girl' and what she wore did resemble a police uniform.

Something about that theory didn't sound quite right to her.

She pulled at the sheets with her toes trying desperately to remember something, anything of who she was, but she continued to draw a blank.

Voices, male voices, different from the one she had heard in her head.

She slipped off the bed, her feet falling mutely to the floor as she stepped carefully across the room. Slim fingers grasped the door knob, giving it a quarter turn before pushing it open a crack. It was a simple hall way on the other side. Worn hardwood floor and faded green walls.

She could hear the voices more clearly now coming from the end of the hallway.

"The hell made you think bringing her back here was a good idea Max, the Major never would have…"

Another voice cut in, "I'm NOT my Grandfather Jack, there's ALOT of things he would have done that I haven't, or thing's I've done that he wouldn't have. Deal with it."

"All that stupid shit you've done that he wouldn't have is why he survived three tours in 'nam. If she is one of Hellsing's pets you've risked compromising this entire operation kid, and if we get compromised we're fucked."

She began to move slowly down the hall way, sticking to the shadows along the wall to try and hide herself. The second man, the man with the gravely voice spoke again.

"We're going to be here for another three weeks tops, and frankly, I don't think Hellsing would have sent an operative of that caliber into a situation like that."

The hallway ended in a large square living room, a large leather couch faced away from the hallway opening and off to its left was a low chair. The man sitting in the chair looked up.

He looked to be in his early forty's and hand sandy blonde hair with a nearly trimmed beard the same color. Bushy eyebrows topping brandy colored eyes arched when he saw her.

"Hey Maxi, looks like sleeping beauty woke up."

A cigar was clenched tightly between the man's teeth. The smell of it hit her, conjuring up a hazy image of a blonde woman in glasses sitting behind a large desk puffing away on her own cigar.

The man on the couch turned slowly to face her; an unlit cigarette teetered between his lips. He didn't look to be more then twenty-six. His voice was the gravely one he had heard before.

The first question that sprang into her mind blurted out of her mouth, "Do you know who I am?"

An odd silence hung in the air for several moments before the larger man let out a hearty laugh, "Not the kind of question most people would be asking when waking up in a strange place with two strange people."

"We found in a building where the roof had collapsed, you where under the rubble." Added the younger one, "and since you're asking us who you are, I guess asking for your name isn't going yield any answers."

She shook her head.

The larger man nodded towards the couch, "Well then for no other reason then simple manners, we should introduce ourselves, my name's Jack Barton, and this halfwit is Max Archer."

"Fuck you Jack."

She moved around the couch, taking a seat on the far side, away from the man she no knew was Max.

Jack leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees, "Well you don't remember who you are, at least that's what I'm assuming, otherwise you wouldn't have asked us."

She managed to nod.

"So the most logical thing to ask would be, what do you remember."

Her faced contorted into a mask of deep thought, "I remember simple things, you eat with a fork and knife, take afternoon tea at three o' clock and we're in London, England. And that…." She reached out, tugging the now lit cigarette from Max's mouth and snuffed it out in an ashtray on the low coffee table, "can kill you."

For a moment the two of them just stared at her. The large man flung his head backwards, howling in laughter, "Well, there's plenty of things he does that can kill him that."

Max tugged another coffin nail from a crumpled foil package that he had produced from the pocket of his jeans, "Yeah, what the fuck ever…" he muttered lighting it. His nostrils flared, releasing a single shapeless cloud of smoke, "So what, if anything can you tell us that may help us figure out who you are."

Even as Jack continued to laugh, she hung her head. Any attempt she had made to remember had yielded nothing.

The voice….

"Just after I woke up I heard a voice in my head. It seemed to know who I am. Called me 'Police Girl."

The two exchanged a quick glance, "Well it's a start, what'd you think kid, have someone check the London Police Authority records for anyone matching her description?"

Max gave a quick nod as he got up from the couch, "Sounds like the best way to do things."

She was puzzled now, how on earth would they be able to access police files?

Their house gust had retreated back to bed, giving Jack a chance to finish chewing out his partner.

"I'm going to ask you this one more time Max, and I want an answer. Why the hell did you drag her out of that rubble and bring her back her?"

He took a long pull from the glass in his hand before setting is back down on the coffee table, "To be totally honest with you Jack, I got no clue why. I just felt…I dunno, like I couldn't just leave her there."

"Did I ever tell you about the time your Grandfather tried to load a VC solider onto a medivac chopper?"

"Nope."

The older man leaned back in his chair, "We had just retaken a village on the Trang River, Charlie had been dug in pretty good. Danny and me where securing the area after the attack. What we found was a lone survivor, he was pretty banged up, shard of shrapnel had torn him open, he was holding his guts in with a pot lid." He suppressed a shudder as the memory washed over him.

The air had been stick with humidity and the sent of gasoline wafted on the breeze from a napalm strike on the tree line boarding the village, even after all these years the cries of the wounded man haunted Jack's nightmares.

"Medic's said his injuries where to severe and moving him would kill him. He way crying out in pain, begging for help. Now Danny, he went and did the only thing he could. He knelt down next to the man and took his hand, told him he'd make the pain go away," his voice dropped several tones as he reached the climax of the story, "then he stood up, pulling his .45 from the holster, put it the man's head and…."

"Bang," Max finished.

Jack gave a slow nod, "I think, you where channeling your Grandfather when you saved her. Making up for the one that he couldn't."

Max lit a fresh cigarette, "I said it before Jack, I'm not my Grandfather.."