[ it takes him a while. he has to sit, and process, and cry. and break a few things in his apartment.
okay, a lot of things. he'll clean it up later when he wants to die a little less.
but eventually he arrives at trevor's, and he knocks.
he absofuckinglutely looks like shit. gone are his hat and sunglasses and ever-present grin full of knives. instead stands a vampire that looks exhausted and dull, like his soul's been dampened with the news.
Trevor knows that look only because he's seen it on the other Alucard. More than once, even, if he's honest with himself.
He barely knows the vampire, and he's already offered the guy his home -- but he obviously needs more than that.
Wordlessly, he steps back from the door.
There's already two tumblers and the remains of the whiskey on the table, and Trevor drops down onto the sofa with enough room for Alucard to join beside him.]
[ if he'd known sooner, if he could have done something, he would have ripped every single one of them limb from limb with his own two hands instead of letting his souls do the work. he wants to now, to go back in time and rip into them harder and harder.
but it's done, and there's no coming back.
he steps inside after trevor moves, a little listless in his movements. it's better than violence to be sure, but that's because he has nowhere to direct it.
his eyes flick toward the hunter when he sits and he nods slightly, moving to sit next to him. being this taciturn is an odd thing for him, but this is an odd situation.
finally, he speaks: ]
I already killed them all.
[ he can't have catharsis by doing it now. he killed them all without even knowing the full weight of their sins. ]
[He picks up one of the tumblers and more or less wraps Alucard's fingers around it so that the vampire is holding it.
He takes a quick drink of his own, tossing most of it back in a gulp, and then half-shifting to turn toward Alucard.
Look, he's learning attentive listening skills. Slowly but surely.]
And they deserve more.
[Trevor has thought many times about what he'd do to the people who'd killed his family, if he'd ever been able to figure out who all of them were. The fact was, though, that there were too many for him to do such a thing.
That's why he hated the Church. The institution itself, the people who ran it.
That's why he hated people who stood back and did nothing while innocent people got hurt.]
[ he watches kind of dispassionately but he does grip the tumbler when he's directed to. he feels far off, thinking about how he lost her the first time and how it turned out. all because he was selfish and petty and cruel. ]
I've wondered who it was for eighty years and now this.
[ he takes a drink, a long one, and doesn't stop until his tumbler is empty. then he rests it on his knee, not looking at trevor for a long time. when he finally does, at least he's focused. it's better than this vague staring he's been doing.
he's always been so ambivalent about them as his enemies. lackadaisical. but now the hatred and anger boil under his skin, buried under the numb feeling of loss sitting like ice on him. ]
I wish I'd made them suffer.
[ more than he did: he'd been on such a time crunch, had to work so fast. but if only he'd been able to torture them all. ]
She never did anything wrong. It's my fault this happened to her.
[Trevor not being drunk all the time means that he actually uses his brain. Even if it means that he's often wandering to unpleasant thoughts like the death of his family, it also means that ... maybe he can give advice.
Ironically, he thinks back to the way that his Alucard had been, killing his own father. He's not sure if it will help, but...]
Do you think that's something she would have wanted? For them to suffer.
[He miiiight be slowly leaning in to Alucard, putting just enough weight on the vampire to let him know that he's there. A big, heavy, warm presence.]
[ alucard doesn't stiffen, but thinking about what mina would have wanted sobers him further. he doesn't know how to explain things, doesn't know how to quantify the fact that she wanted nothing to do with him at all.
trevor's weight is there though, against his side, and he thinks about that briefly instead.
finally, he shakes his head. ]
No. [ a rough laugh. ] She hated me and everything I did, she wouldn't want my retribution.
[ she hated him? but he still loves her enough to be this affected. ]
[ of course he is. alucard takes a normal drink of this next glass, at least not chugging the whole thing.
he knows, logically, that eventually the pain and self-loathing will wane back to normal, but now they're sharp in his chest.
trevor's arm feels strange. not bad, just strange. no one touches him, much less touches him like this. it's such a rare thing that he finds himself leaning into it slightly without even realizing it, an affection-starved dog, though he'd be loath to admit it. ]
[ she grants him leeway when it's important, when it means everything. to have time to process without having to report back is... important. he doesn't want to cry in front of trevor but he especially doesn't want to cry in front of integra, who knows him well enough to know how far gone that moment would be.
he doesn't want pity.
when trevor shifts alucard follows instinctively, taking another drink and leaning into him slightly. not a lot, but enough.
he finally smiles faintly, a little wry. ]
I keep thinking I wish I'd known sooner so I could have at least buried her.
[ where had she been? on the airship, with everything else? it had been utterly destroyed, which means so were her remains. he winces slightly to think about it. ]
[Yes, he's definitely going to have to make a point to meet Integra soon. She seems -- important to Alucard, and his Alucard has met her, so it's probably about that time.
He doesn't push any more contact right now, but he'll keep the offer open, so to speak.
Trevor makes a thoughtful noise.]
Well, you can always do something for her even if that's not the case. A memorial?
[He'd found most of the bodies, but ... well. It had seemed better to have them all together in one place, as they'd lived; the memorial had gone elsewhere on the property.]
[ alucard's relationship with integra is complicated. he loves her, in his own way, but it's not a romantic love. it's a love that's difficult to place and quantify. he's obsessed with her with ever fiber of his being, and he respects her above all else. she's an ideal that no one else can even aspire to, to him. powerful, steadfast, but not unkind.
he'd be happy, if the people he enjoyed the company of all knew her. even if it means knowing he's shackled, he doesn't care about that. not like he once did.
he considers trevor's statement a moment before nodding. ]
I'm sure there's space on the grounds.
[ back home. he's not going to sully her by putting one in this place. better that hellsing have a memorial to the woman that helped destroy dracula. ]
There was a novel, written about us. [ thoughtful. ] The end of it isn't accurate, but most of it is.
[Trevor can't say he understands that level of obsession, but he thinks he can probably picture it after seeing how Dracula reacted to his wife being burned at the stake, in his world. Even if their love wasn't romantic, it was still -- all encompassing in some ways, it seemed, if their previous conversations about Integra had told him much.
He seems satisfied enough with the answer about the memorial.
At least they're getting away from talking about the most depressing parts of this conversation. He blinks, though, glancing down-slash-over at the vampire.]
That doesn't surprise me. People love to tell stories about Dracula, so I'm sure a novel would be the next logical step.
[ it's a very similar obsession, really. in contrast to his sorrow now, if something happened to integra he would burn the whole world and himself down to avenge her, and he wouldn't rest until it was completed.
that's just how he is.
as for the novel, he huffs out a weak laugh. ] You're right. There are plenty of stories, but I think that one's the most enduring. People love it because I lose at the end. It gives them peace of mind knowing that monsters can lose.
It was mostly letters transcribed directly. So unless he changed the contents, it seems realistic enough. I've read it a few times over the years, just to see how they all thought about things. It's... interesting, if nothing else. How meticulous their planning was.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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she just told me
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i've got more whiskey
and the couch
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i'll be over
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okay, a lot of things. he'll clean it up later when he wants to die a little less.
but eventually he arrives at trevor's, and he knocks.
he absofuckinglutely looks like shit. gone are his hat and sunglasses and ever-present grin full of knives. instead stands a vampire that looks exhausted and dull, like his soul's been dampened with the news.
it's his fault. ]
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Trevor knows that look only because he's seen it on the other Alucard. More than once, even, if he's honest with himself.
He barely knows the vampire, and he's already offered the guy his home -- but he obviously needs more than that.
Wordlessly, he steps back from the door.
There's already two tumblers and the remains of the whiskey on the table, and Trevor drops down onto the sofa with enough room for Alucard to join beside him.]
C'mon.
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but it's done, and there's no coming back.
he steps inside after trevor moves, a little listless in his movements. it's better than violence to be sure, but that's because he has nowhere to direct it.
his eyes flick toward the hunter when he sits and he nods slightly, moving to sit next to him. being this taciturn is an odd thing for him, but this is an odd situation.
finally, he speaks: ]
I already killed them all.
[ he can't have catharsis by doing it now. he killed them all without even knowing the full weight of their sins. ]
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[He picks up one of the tumblers and more or less wraps Alucard's fingers around it so that the vampire is holding it.
He takes a quick drink of his own, tossing most of it back in a gulp, and then half-shifting to turn toward Alucard.
Look, he's learning attentive listening skills. Slowly but surely.]
And they deserve more.
[Trevor has thought many times about what he'd do to the people who'd killed his family, if he'd ever been able to figure out who all of them were. The fact was, though, that there were too many for him to do such a thing.
That's why he hated the Church. The institution itself, the people who ran it.
That's why he hated people who stood back and did nothing while innocent people got hurt.]
They always do.
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[ he watches kind of dispassionately but he does grip the tumbler when he's directed to. he feels far off, thinking about how he lost her the first time and how it turned out. all because he was selfish and petty and cruel. ]
I've wondered who it was for eighty years and now this.
[ he takes a drink, a long one, and doesn't stop until his tumbler is empty. then he rests it on his knee, not looking at trevor for a long time. when he finally does, at least he's focused. it's better than this vague staring he's been doing.
he's always been so ambivalent about them as his enemies. lackadaisical. but now the hatred and anger boil under his skin, buried under the numb feeling of loss sitting like ice on him. ]
I wish I'd made them suffer.
[ more than he did: he'd been on such a time crunch, had to work so fast. but if only he'd been able to torture them all. ]
She never did anything wrong. It's my fault this happened to her.
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Ironically, he thinks back to the way that his Alucard had been, killing his own father. He's not sure if it will help, but...]
Do you think that's something she would have wanted? For them to suffer.
[He miiiight be slowly leaning in to Alucard, putting just enough weight on the vampire to let him know that he's there. A big, heavy, warm presence.]
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trevor's weight is there though, against his side, and he thinks about that briefly instead.
finally, he shakes his head. ]
No. [ a rough laugh. ] She hated me and everything I did, she wouldn't want my retribution.
[ she hated him? but he still loves her enough to be this affected. ]
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Sounds like a complicated situation. Makes sense to be so fucked up over it.
[He glances at the tumbler in Alucard's hand briefly, because it's easier than trying to look him in the eye right now.]
You want another drink?
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he feels so tired, so run-down.
he wants... he doesn't know what he wants. ]
Yeah.
[ to the drink. he doesn't know what else to say. yeah, he wants to drown it. ]
At some point it's information I need to tell Integra.
[ but he's reluctant to do it right now. she'll look at him, and understand, and he thinks he'd hate it right now. ]
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[The information.
He pours Alucard another drink, although this one is a little less heavy-handed than the first one.
He's seen that exhaustion often enough, knows what it feels like to some extent. He's not sure how he'd deal with it after so many years, either.
After a moment of hesitation, he drops his arm around Alucard's shoulder. It's -- friendly, not too constrictive, but something he can offer.]
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[ of course he is. alucard takes a normal drink of this next glass, at least not chugging the whole thing.
he knows, logically, that eventually the pain and self-loathing will wane back to normal, but now they're sharp in his chest.
trevor's arm feels strange. not bad, just strange. no one touches him, much less touches him like this. it's such a rare thing that he finds himself leaning into it slightly without even realizing it, an affection-starved dog, though he'd be loath to admit it. ]
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[Not when things are so raw and unpleasant, like exposed nerves.
He thinks of how he should've gone back to the house where the rest of his family had been killed right away, looked for survivors.
But he'd been a scared boy, when it came down to it, and there probably hadn't been anyone. Still, how could he have been sure?
He lets out a harsh sigh and shifts to lean back, so Alucard can rest against him if he wants to.]
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[ she grants him leeway when it's important, when it means everything. to have time to process without having to report back is... important. he doesn't want to cry in front of trevor but he especially doesn't want to cry in front of integra, who knows him well enough to know how far gone that moment would be.
he doesn't want pity.
when trevor shifts alucard follows instinctively, taking another drink and leaning into him slightly. not a lot, but enough.
he finally smiles faintly, a little wry. ]
I keep thinking I wish I'd known sooner so I could have at least buried her.
[ where had she been? on the airship, with everything else? it had been utterly destroyed, which means so were her remains. he winces slightly to think about it. ]
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He doesn't push any more contact right now, but he'll keep the offer open, so to speak.
Trevor makes a thoughtful noise.]
Well, you can always do something for her even if that's not the case. A memorial?
[He'd found most of the bodies, but ... well. It had seemed better to have them all together in one place, as they'd lived; the memorial had gone elsewhere on the property.]
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he'd be happy, if the people he enjoyed the company of all knew her. even if it means knowing he's shackled, he doesn't care about that. not like he once did.
he considers trevor's statement a moment before nodding. ]
I'm sure there's space on the grounds.
[ back home. he's not going to sully her by putting one in this place. better that hellsing have a memorial to the woman that helped destroy dracula. ]
There was a novel, written about us. [ thoughtful. ] The end of it isn't accurate, but most of it is.
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He seems satisfied enough with the answer about the memorial.
At least they're getting away from talking about the most depressing parts of this conversation. He blinks, though, glancing down-slash-over at the vampire.]
That doesn't surprise me. People love to tell stories about Dracula, so I'm sure a novel would be the next logical step.
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that's just how he is.
as for the novel, he huffs out a weak laugh. ] You're right. There are plenty of stories, but I think that one's the most enduring. People love it because I lose at the end. It gives them peace of mind knowing that monsters can lose.
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[Trevor knows from experience what kind of life that makes you live. He shrugs his shoulders.]
Most people who tell and write stories weren't even there when things happened, so I'm fucking shocked they got any of it right, actually.
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[ he's thoughtful a moment, before nodding. ]
It was mostly letters transcribed directly. So unless he changed the contents, it seems realistic enough. I've read it a few times over the years, just to see how they all thought about things. It's... interesting, if nothing else. How meticulous their planning was.
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