LETTERS FROM HELLSING LVI

Zelig was right, drat him! I was running late.  Of course the fact that it was all his fault never even occurred to Bertie, he just kept yammering on and on about explosions and murals.

Rather than waste more time or risk a brain embolism trying to argue with the demented little dwarf, I smiled sweetly, distracted him with a promise of snickerdoodles and made a mad dash for the elevator.

I skidded into the bathroom 10 minutes behind schedule and rushed through my shower (lather, rinse, no repeat) hoping to make up some lost time. I wrapped my hair in a towel and damply squeezed into clean clothing.  Then, barefoot and be-turbaned, dirty clothes in one hand, hairbrush and scrunchie in the other, I trotted towards my bedroom to put on my shoes and grab the book Walter wanted to borrow.

I stopped short in the doorway surprised as my bedroom seemed to be occupied already by a rather odd couple indeed.

The man stood with quiet calm and almost unnatural stillness in front of the clothes chest, arms folded behind his back as he watched the other occupant of the room, who was sitting on the bed yet literally bouncing up and down with excitement, with infinite patience and perhaps just a touch of humour as she pelted him with an endless stream of nervous chatter.

"Oh she's late! {bounce} I can't stand it. {bounce, bounce} Do you think {bounce}she'll like it really? {bounce, ping} I mean it seemed so {bounce} perfect but what if I chose {ka-bounce} the wrong colour {bounce} and  I'm still {bounce, squeak} not sure about that one group {bouncety, bounce} I mean really, {bounce} I think that was a {bounce} joke don't you?  But still {bounce, squeak} it seems just the {bounce} thing you know? {ka-boing} But I've never been good at picking {bounce} presents and why isn't she here yet! {bounce, bouncety} You did tell her when to come and...Oh {bounce}Walter, she just has to like it. You do think she'll {bounce}like it don't you?"

"Perhaps you should ask her directly Miss Victoria."  Said Walter indicating my presence in the doorway with a nod of his head.

"Oh Corrine!"  Cried Seras happily.  "Your finally here!"  She bounced one last time on the mattress and sprang from the bed in a surprisingly graceful movement landing, cat like, on the balls of her feet.  

"You're up early."  I said smiling.

"We've been waiting." She said, bounding to the doorway and grabbing one of my hands.

"Yes I see."  I said as she tugged me into room.  "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Oh, well," She said suddenly turning shy and dropping my hand.  "we, that is, Walter and I, we sort of that is, I thought you might..."

"Miss Victoria has a gift for you."  Said Walter simply.

Seras bit her lip and handed me a small package she had been clutching tightly.

"Why Seras, that's so sweet of you." I said, accepting the beautifully wrapped parcel.  "Oh, lovely."  I said, stroking the soft velvet bow and tracing the raised pattern on the paper.
 
"Open it."  She said tightly. Having no patience this evening for my quirky tactile tendencies.

"Of course."  I said.  Gently untying the ribbon and carefully peeling back the the taped edges of the paper.

"Oh, for the love of,...Corrine it's just wrapping paper not the Magna Carta."

"But it's so pretty. "  I said.

 "Corrine."  She said warningly.

I tugged off the remaining paper, wincing at the tearing sound, then opened the little gift box and tugged out something wrapped in a black velvet bag.  A warning look from Seras stopped my fondling and I quickly untied the drawstrings.

A shiny red  plastic rectangle, about 5 inches long fell into my hand.  I flipped it over and smiled at Seras with delight.  "An iPod."  I squeaked happily.  "Oh Seras you got me an iPod, A really nice one too and it's red!"  I said stroking the gleaming surface.

"So you like it then?"  She asked.

"Like it?  I love it Seras. Thank you!"  I said hugging her hard.  "Now, show me how to use it!"  I demanded, switching it on.

"Well,"  Said Seras.  "You can jack your headphones in here, I also got you a splitter or, you can put it in this docking station,"  She said, sweeping her arm towards Walter. "so we can all listen."

Walter stepped to one side revealing a very high-tech looking piece of  electronic equipment that seemed more appropriate for docking the USS Enterprise than an iPod.

"Wow!"  I said.  "That's really...Wow!"

I gabbed Seras' hand and bounded over to the dresser.  "I really should say 'you shouldn't have' and 'it's too much' but I can't because it's so cool and I love it and I want it and need to press all those lovely buttons so very, very much!" 

"I know."  She said laughing.  "We were going to get just a regular one then Walter and I saw this one and we knew we had to get it for you."

Walter showed us some of it's features and we all basked in the shared warmth of the brotherhood of geeky gadgetry love.

"I'm half expecting Tie fighters to fly out."  I said.

"Wouldn't be surprised.  And, Walter has modified it so it won't blow up when you start, ahem, your special sing-ey thing."

"You guys are the best!"  I said.   "Let's try it out shall we?"

I scrolled down the menu and let out a small gasp of surprise. Not only was everything from the CDs I had brought to England with me on there but pretty much every song from every CD, tape, 45 or LP I owned as well as several I didn't.  It was like looking at an alphabetical listing of every artist or song I had ever heard and liked from Abba to ZZ Top.  From "All that Jazz" to "Yesterday". 

"So many."  I said with awe. I shuffled through the Stray Cats, Talking Heads and the Ramones.  Gazed with amazement as Jim Croce, Pat Benatar, Meatloaf and Janis Joplin flashed across the screen.  "B-52s, Big Audio Dynamite, Yardbirds..."  I muttered.  "Ah, Little Feat, Elton  John, Patsy Cline, Violent Femmes..."

"Oh dear, it's not too much is it?  I mean we got the extended memory card so there should still be room for more songs but I suppose you could always delete a few."

"No! no, this is amazing you got pretty much everything I would ever want on here.  I mean look at this, you got Ray Charles, the Alarm, the Kentucky Headhunters, Buddy Holly....How did you even know I liked the Squirrel Nut Zippers or Screamin' Jay Hawkins?"

"Well, we called a few people..."

"This is beyond amazing you even have my favourite musicals, Chess, The Fantasticks, pretty much all of Andrew Lloyd Webber, original London casts no less."

"Of course."  Said Walter.

I twinkled at them.  "How did you ever get Clam Chowder?"

"Online. Your sister said she wants that tape back by the way."

"And I don't even think Catholic Boy was ever released on CD."

Walter spread his hands as if to say nothing was beyond his evil butler super powers.

I giggled.  "I think every album Air Supply ever made must be on here."

"Yes, about that."  Said Seras.  "I was pretty sure your friends must have been joking about them but Walter said best to include those too."

"I actually do love Air Supply." I blushed.  "My friends just couldn't break me of it, hard as they tried.  They're just so..."

"Pedantic."  Offered Walter.

"Treacle-ly."   Supplied Seras.

"I was going to say romantic you heartless louts but I forgive you because I now own the complete Beatles, Stones, Pink Floyd, Who and Kylie Minogue collec...Kylie Minogue?"  I asked holding out the I-pod to Seras.  "I don't think I know any of her songs.  Who told you I liked her?"

"Well," Said Seras. "Walter mentioned that you liked oldies."

"Hmmm."  I said mildly insulted and feeling a bit old.  "Well that's very thoughtful of you.  I'll have to give her a listen."

I was about to scroll over to the classical folder when an entry caught my eye.

Impossible, I thought, staring at the name of a high school Christian rock group that, as far as knew, hadn't played together in over 20 years.  "Malachi" I whispered.  "You have Malachi on here."

I looked up at them eyes round with wonder.  "How is that even possible?  They never made a real album, much less a CD.  They just sold tapes at their concerts.  There probably aren't more than 10 of those left in existence."

"One of which,"  Said Seras proudly.  "was mixed in among the tapes in your library.  Your mother read me all of the titles and your sister said this one was special because you all belonged to this youth group together and were friends with the band so."  She shrugged.  "She wants that tape back too by the way."

"But how?"

"Oh easy."   She said.  "I had your mother express ship it here then Walter transferred it onto the computer and converted the songs into mp3 files.  He even cleaned up the sound a little...are you all right Corrine?"

"Oh."  I said stumbling back a bit.  My legs hit the bed  and I sat down.  "Oh."  I was having trouble speaking so many emotions were crowding in on me at once.  They had done this for me.  They had put their heads together and given me probably the most wonderful and thoughtful gift  I had ever received.  When I thought about the time and care that had gone into creating it, I felt humbled and awed.  I looked up at them, eyes brimming.  "Seras honey, you did all this for me?"

"Well yes."  She said shyly.  "I wanted to find a way to say thank you for everything you've done for me and I know you missed having your music."  She blushed and looked down at her hands.  "Your the best friend I've ever had Corrine and I,"  She stopped and bit her lip.  "I love you."  She whispered.

Something within my chest broke loose and came bursting out of me until I was laughing and crying at the same time.  Right there, right then, in that room with these people I was, for the first time in a long time, well and truly happy. I launched myself off the bed and into her arms, tears of joy steaming down my face.

"Oh Seras, I love you too!"  I cried, squeezing her tight.  "And this is the best present ever!  Thank you both so..." 

Suddenly the world turned upside down.  One moment I was bending to kiss Seras' cheek, the next, Seras was shrieking with pain, her sharp nails clawing at me like a wounded animal.

Before I could react, she lifted me from the ground by my upper arms and flung me across the room like so much garbage.

LETTERS FROM HELLSING LV

"I'm not autistic you know."  Said Zelig.

"Hmm?"  I said adjusting the pound notes more comfortably in my bra.

"I'm not autistic."

"Never said you were Bertie."

"Well I'm not."

"OK."

He frowned and popped his jaw, folding his arms tightly behind his back.  We walked a few more paces towards the main house before he cocked his head back towards me and said.  "And the Asperger's has never been formally diagnosed."

The penny dropped.  "Ah Bertie, that's not why I'm reading the book."

"Humph."  He huffed.  "Stupid poinger learns a few languages and does a few math tricks and suddenly he's some celebrity expert on synaesthesia."

"Well he does have it."  I ventured.  "That kind of makes him an expert."

"He's not!  He's a performing monkey just this side of an idiot savant.'

"Now your just being mean Bertie.  He's overcome a lot."

"Humph."

"Now Bertie."

"My synaesthesia is far and away more interesting than his."  He grumped.  "And I'm much better looking."

"Of course you are Bertie."

"I just don't see why they couldn't write a book about me."

"Well, for starters, there's the fact that you have warrants out in five countries."

"Six,  I'd use a fake name."

"And the dust jacket photo?"

"Moustache,  I look quite sexy with a moustache."

"OK,"  I said.  Warming up to the subject.  "How 'bout this; Much as your book would be good, your art is even better..."

"It is quite steller."

"...So, I would think that you would rather people marvel at your artistic genius than be fascinated by your synesthesia."

"True, true."  He said, tilting his head thoughtfully.  "Still, the book would be bloody fantastic. Seems a pity to deny the world." 

"I know."  I said.  "You could keep a journal to write your memoires and publish them posthumously.  Then, people could say, 'Wow, is that really how his mind worked?  This explains so much.  He truly was a...'"

"Genius?"  He offered.

"Absolutely."  I agreed.

He stopped walking a moment and turned towards me.  "Say...your pretty good at this."

"Good at what Bertie?"  I asked.

"Handling me."  He grinned taking my arm.  "I like being handled, makes me feel important."

I gaped at him at a loss for words.

He laughed and tugged my arm to get me going again.  "It's a complement, really.  In fact when I'm  a ridiculously famous artist, you can be part of my entourage."

"Oh I can, can I?"

"Mmmmhmmm,  you can be the one who tells me what I need to hear  instead of  what I want to hear.  You know, to keep me grounded and such.  And, you can bake the brownies."

"A Herculean task indeed. but  Isn't that sergeant Marks' job?"

"What?  No, he makes terrible brownies."

"Bertie!"

"Oh, the 'grounding' thing.  No, he just hits me on the head and tells me to stop being an idiot.  I like your methods better."

"Hmm.  Well thank you, I think."

He nodded regaly.

"Speaking of 'grounding'," I said in  my most tactful manner.  "Haven't you told me on several occasions that most artists who are popular during their lifetimes are doomed to become talentless hacks, if they aren't already, due to the overwhelming pressure to remain commercially viable?"

"True, true."  He said.

 "So, then, why would you want to be famous?"

"Oh, I don't want to be famous."  He said soberly.

"But."

"I simply won't be given the choice."  He cocked his head.  "It's just that my art is so obviously sublime, that even something as dense as an art critic can spot its brilliance."

"Obviously sublime?"

"Hush now."  He said, wagging a finger at me.  "Genius speaking." 

"Of course, of course.  Please do continue."

"As I was saying...what was I saying?"

"Sublime art critics."

"Yes, yes."  He said.  "As I was saying, my art is so obviously sublime that even an art critic can recognize its brilliance so its just a matter of time before I'm 'discovered' and you know what that means don't  you?"
 
"Ummm."

"Exactly!  Gallery showings."  He shuddered.  "And you know what that leads to."

"White wine and pretentious hors d'oeuvre s?"

"Worse,"  He said gravely.  "commissions."

"I see."  I said sagely.  "No, sorry.  I don't get it."

"Corrine,"  He huffed.  "commissions mean money."

"Ah."  I said. Understanding dawning.

"Yes,"  He said glumly.  "Lots and lots of money."

"You do love money."  I said.

"I do.  I really do."  He said ruefully.  "There are just so many lovely things you can buy with money."

"True."  I said.  "And then there's the attention and adoration."

"I know!"  He wailed.  "I love being told how great I am.  I just love it!  And the more commissions and money I get the more people will love me."  He reached over to pluck at my sleeve.  "So you see why you have to be part of my entourage."

"No, not really."

He huffed, exasperated.  "So you can tell me who adores me for my art and good looks and who just likes my art cause it popular.  You know like the the slave who stood behind the Roman general in the chariot holding the laurel wreath.

"Whispering 'You are but a mortal man'?"

"Yes!"  He said excitedly.  "Only more modern and appropriate."

"So.... Poke you with a stick and tell you to get over yourself."

"I was thinking more like kissing me on the cheek and reminding me that art is more important than money."

"I can see why you wouldn't want St. Marks to do that."

"Cause of the kissing?"

"No, because saying anything was more important than money might just kill him."

He laughed and squeezed my hand.  "That's what the Sarge said!  He said he'd rather just hit me and say 'shut up and take the money!'.  So I decided he's going to be my agent and now that you're on board..."

"Now wait a minute Bertie I haven't agreed to this."

"But I decided."

"I do have a life you know."

He snorted, amused.

"Well I do."  I said mildly annoyed.

"But it's a boring one."

"Bertram DeGaul Zelig, you take that back!"

"But you told me so just last week."  He said confused.

"I did not!...Well maybe I did but that doesn't mean I meant....Oh, why do you take things so literally Bertie?"

He frowned puzzled.  He tapped his fingertips gently together a few times thoughtfully then brightened. "Is this about the asking thing?  Stewart says girls like to be asked first."

 I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples.

"Well, if it means that much to you,"  He said  twining his arm around mine.  "I'll ask.  But we both already know your going to do it."

"Oh I am, am I?"

"Of course,"  He said smugly.  "I'm irresistible."

"The word you want is incorrigible."  I said, trying to sound stern but fighting back a smile.

"Of course."  He said dismissively.  "Most true geniuses are." He must have read my smile for acquiescence because he squeezed my  hand and looked up at me with a broad grin.  "Oh Rin we're going to have so much fun."

"Rin?"

"It's your groupie name."

"I think not.  Besides, I thought you didn't want to be famous."

 "Oh I don't."  He said.  "I'll be tourtured and miserable the whole time but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try to enjoy ourselves now is it?"

"Isn't it?"

"No."  He said patting my arm patiently.  "You should always try to find some joy in life Rin, no matter how miserable the circumstances."

I could not fault his philosophy, however flawed his logic.

"Besides,"  He said interrupting my thoughts.  "We'll be so busy planning my death, that I'll have little time to be miserable."

"What the What now?"

"My death."  He said excitedly.  "We have to start planning it right away so it will be just perfect."

"Bertie."  I said warningly.

"No, you see you've inspired me.  All along I've been resigned to having to be rich and famous for the rest of my life and quit the Geese and not blow things up any more, which would really be a shame cause a proper explosion is really just a practical application of performance art,  hmmm... performance art"  He mused.  "Perhaps I could still blow things up from time to time."  He whistled a couple of bars of music experimentally then shook himself back to reality.  "Anyway I'd still be miserable but then you suggested the whole posthumous memoires thing and I thought, hey! perhaps being famous wouldn't be all that bad if it included a gruesome yet stunningly spectacular, tragically premature death."  He wrapped his arms gleefully about himself bouncing on the balls of his feet.  "Oh yes."  He sighed.  Then, eyes gleaming,  he began whistling softly again.

"No Bertie!"  I shouted "Stop it. Stop talking like that right now!"

"But your my death muse."  He said with a little smile.  "Hmm, death muse..I'll have to paint you like that."

I growled and grabbed his shoulders.  Shaking him until his teeth rattled.  "Dammit Bertie! your not this crazy so stop it right now."   He fixed me with a baleful glare for interrupting his express crazy train thoughts of death but I was un-cowed  "There will be no more talk about killing yourself do you hear me?"  I commanded starting to feel the edge of panic.  How could he talk so calmly about orchestrating his own death?  How could I stop him?  "I'll tell Sergeant Marks Bertie"  I said grasping at straws.  "If you kill yourself Bertie I will cry for you but I will never forgive you and so help me God if you don't swear to me by your mother, Zidane and all that is holy to stop right now and never even consider suicide again, not one cookie, blondie or brownie I bake will ever pass your lips again!  Do you hear me?"

That got him.  "Now you listen to me Corrine."  He said angrily, bowing out his chest.

"Not one crumb."  I said, glaring right back.

His expression moved from angry to hurt then puzzled.   He cocked his head and said, "Did you just swear at me Corrine?"

A small strangled sound was all I could manage.

"You did,"  He said.  "I heard it.  But why would you..."  He stopped, comprehension dawning on his face.  "Why Corrine, you didn't think I was planning to actually off myself did you?"  He grinned with delight.  "Oh, bless you silly girl, you did!"  He chuckled.  "My, my, what ever gave you that  idea?"

I gurgled and clutched his shoulders tighter resisting the urge to throttle him.

"I mean really Corrine, suicide, me?  No, that's for poncey brooding poets and pathetic, anorexic actresses.  I'm far too brilliant a visionary to kill myself.  Besides,"  He said tugging experimentally on the fingers which were slowly ensorcoling his neck.  "everyone knows that narcissists rarely commit suicide."

 He flashed me a charming smile then sobered.  He reached a hand out and, eyes round, placed a finger on my cheek.  "You really would cry for me wouldn't you?"  He whispered voice tinged with awe.

"Oh Bertie"  I sighed, dropping my hand to my side.  "What am I to do with you?"

"Well...,"  He said craftily.  "You could start by baking me some walnut brownies."

I lunged. 

He laughed and skipped deftly back away from my clutching fingers.

"Tsk, Corrine."  He said wagging a finger at me.  "If your going to successfully attack people, you'll have to learn not to telegraph.  I mean it wasn't so bad for a first  try but that twitching eye's a dead give away."  Arms akimbo, he tilted his head.  "Don't worry Corrine,"  He said with a wink. "I'm an extremely annoying person so you're sure to get plenty of practice."

I snorted not wanting to laugh.

He bounced forward and clasped my hands in his.  "Oh Corrine."  He said with a beautific smile on his face.  "For the first time since I realized I was going to be forced to become rich and famous I'm not so depressed because now I can write my book and fake my death  then get back to making real art and blowing things up and gardening."

"Ah, um, good?"  I said tenativly.

"Yes!" He said swinging our arms wide.  "Cause now I have my own death muse in my entourage.  This is going to be the best fake death ever!"

"I am not your death muse Bertie!  I shouted.  "I refuse to be your death muse."

But he, of course, ignored me.  He had that inspired look in his eye and was already off on another tangent.  "Hmmm, 'death muse'.  I had planned on painting you as Demeter in the mural because Sarge said he'd kill me if I even suggested painting you naked.  Pity but makes sense you being a lady and all but now I think you will be the 10th muse.  Well have to come up with a Greek name for you of course.  εμπνευσμένη θανάτου?  No, too complicated.  Funny someone so sweet being a death muse but that just adds to the irony and what's art without irony.   Oh so much to do.  I'm going to have to make more sketches and.... are you coming Corrine?  Mustn't dawdle, I've got a lot to do and you'll be late for tea."  He said as he dissappeared into the main house.  Oddly enough, it wasn't so much the fact that Zelig seemed to say all that in one breath that impressed me so, it was that he was also managed to whistle Vivaldi's 'Spring' under his breath at the same time. 


Griffin was right.  Unless you're prepared to use violence, arguing with Zelig is both exhusting and pointless.  I smiled, shook my head and followed him through the door.

LETTERS FROM HELLSING LIV

"Great story."  I said patting the soil down around the last potato plant.

"And so well told." Gushed Andrew, clearly smitten.

Thomas smirked, probably calculating how much ice cream he could get out of Andrew in exchange for a good word with his mother, and continued attaching gator clips to the clock mechanism.

 "Yes,"  Said Zelig.  "Usually, you don't hear a story with nudity, koi ponds, and girls covered in dessert unless Griffin's in the room." 

I tried to give Zelig a stern look but had to stifle a snort.  "What?"  He said.  "It's true ain't it? Red goes here and blue there."  He said, turning to Thomas.  "Faster to diffuse...I mean disconnect for transport." 

Thomas blinked then rearranged the wires, glancing at Zelig with thoughtful calculation.

I made a mental note to warn Stewart to keep those two apart.

Sarah came over to help me clean up the work bench while Andrew and Zelig hauled the window box outside to give it a good watering.  "Strange,"  She said.  "It's been years since Walter has teased me like that or even been pleasant to me for that matter."  She frowned.  "He hasn't been mean or anything, just cold and distant.  Oh, he's always been reserved of course, that's just how he is but he would at least tease you on occasion to show he was a bit fond of you and once in a blue moon even smile.  But not for the longest time."  She gave me an appraising look. "Tea hmm?"

I nodded wiping up some dirt with a rag.

"In the study?"

"Yes."

"Often?"

I stopped cleaning and crossed my arms.  "Any particular reason your asking?"

"No...yes...I don't know." She tapped her fingers on the counter thoughtfully.  "It's just that, well, it's unusual."

"What, having tea?  We are in England you know."

She smiled tightly.  "Yes," She said.  "But having tea with Walter is very unusual.  Especially in that room.  I was just wondering...."  She raised a speculative eyebrow.

"I've only been here for a couple of months so I can't really say what's unusual or not."  I said.   "Perhaps you should ask Walter."


"Oh, it's unusual all right." She shrugged.  "So,"  She asked casually as she examined her nails.  "What's Walter into these days?  Whatever do you talk about?"

"Look,"  I said. "I am sure you have the best of intentions here but as you just pointed out, Walter is a very reserved person but he has been good to Seras and me, he takes care of us so I don't think I should repay him with gossip."

She made an annoyed sound, started to point a finger at me then dropped it and sighed.  "Your right of course."  She said ruefully.  "It's just that..." She dropped her voice and leaned towards me.  "I owe him for a lot more than the shepherdess. You see, if it weren't for Walter, Thomas,..."  She choked a bit.  "...Well let's just say it's important to me that ..."

"...tells the correct time and everything and Mr. Zelig said for another 20 quid he can grow a turnip right around an LCD clock display that's a ribbon for sure so can I grandpa please have the money?"  Came Thomas' voice as he followed Andrew and Zelig through the doorway.

"I don't know Tom, $40 quid's quite a bit, besides, the science fair is less than two weeks away.  There simply isn't time." Said Mr. Russell.

"Plenty of time." Said Zelig wiping off his hands.

Mr. Russell scratched his chin and said gently.  "Now Mr. Zelig, I know your clever with the plants and all but.."

"Genius, actually."  Interrupted Zelig.

"Yes now, but even so."

"You don't think I can do it?"  Sniffed Zelig.

"I know you can't. Good you may be, but even you can't warp the laws of nature."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that."  I muttered.

Zelig beamed and patted my arm.  "See, Corrine believes I can do it."

"Stuff and nonsense."

"Ha!"  Said Zelig eyes gleaming.  "Care to place a wager on that?"

I groaned.  Here we go. I thought.

"What you got in mind Private."  Asked Mr. Russell.

Zelig cocked his head and tapped his lips with a finger pretending to contemplate this. "Tell you what I'll do old man, seeing as I like the kid and your a veteran an all how bout we say, if I don't grow the clock on time as promised I pay you the 20 quid but, if I do produce the clock, and I of course will, you pay me the 20 plus an extra fiver for disbelieving in me.  How's that sound?"

"I don't know."  Said Mr. Russell.  "On top to the $20 I'm already paying for the one you just made.  Seems a bit steep for vegetables."

"Vegetable art."  Corrected Zelig.

"Still."

"It demeans us both to quibble over that which is priceless but I can understand how an old codger such as yourself is probably on a fixed income so let's say $10 for the one I just made and Thomas' pretty little mother here poses for me as a nymph in a painting the Capitan just commissioned."  He grinned winningly at Sarah.

"Sounds fun."  Said Sarah.

"Wait a minute,"  Said Andrew suspiciously.  "Not the 'The feast of Bacchus' mural you were sketching up the other day?"

"That's the one."  Said Zelig excitedly.  "It's to feature the Capitan as Bacchus."

"Absolutely not!" Shouted Andrew slamming some bills down on the counter.  "Here's for your poxey soup clock!...That is to say, I would be honoured to treat Tommy to this clock, if he thinks it will help his grade."  He said, back peddling his temper.

"It's Thomas, Andy."  Said Thomas petulantly but still scooping up the bills.  "Are you sure you wouldn't want to pose for Mr. Zelig mother?  I hear he paints a tasteful nude and I could use the extra tenner for that Lego Death Star kit I was saving for."

The cheeky little so an so.

"Now Thomas,"  Said his mother.  "mustn't Tease Mr. Young when he's being so kind."  She beamed prettily at Andrew who broke off staring daggers at Thomas to smile bashfully back.  She pried the cash from Thomas' resisting fingers and turned to Zelig.  "Here's for the lovely clock Mr. Zelig."  She said handing him the money.  I noticed she also slipped him her phone number.  "Sorry about the posing thing.  Another time perhaps?"  She said smoothly then winked with her back turned so Andrew couldn't see.

OK, now I see where Thomas gets it from.  She's a bit of a cheeky so and so herself.

Andrew, in turn, was giving Zelig a triumphant 'so there' look.  Gads, men can be stupid.

Zelig shrugged and turned to Mr. Russell.  "So, what do you say old man?"  He asked holding up the money.  "You gonna jump high or stay home?"*

*Zelig may be, without a doubt, obsessed with his art to the exclusion of most everything else but gambling runs a close second.   Perhaps this is because the Geese seem to have raised the practice of placing stupid bets to both the level of an art form and a blood sport. 

Mr. Russell smiled and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  "Well now sonny, it seems wrong to steal from a crazy man but if you insist..."  He said reaching for his wallet.

"Oh, that I do."  Grinned Zelig pulling out his betting book.

"Who's holding?"  Asked Mr. Russell.

"Oh, please no."  I whispered.

 "Corrine."  Chorused Andrew and Zelig.

"Ms. Doyle."  Said Dr. Levin at the same time.

"Why me?"  I moaned.

"Cause, you're the only one everyone trusts not to pinch the money Corrine."  Said Zelig.

"Oh, well, that's nice I guess."  I said.

"Umhmm."  Said Zelig.  "Plus, you got no pockets again so..."  He grinned and looked meaningfully at my chest.

LETTERS FROM HELLSING LIII

A lot of twists, turns and surprises today/night. Amazingly, most of them good.

For starters, Miss Pringle had decided to take a personal day and Dr. Levin had been tempted out of his office by Zelig to view a special exhibit on land-mines at the British War Museum leaving Andrew to finish up the lab work on his own. It was a beautiful day and I was chomping at the bit to get outside and dig in my garden plot so I pitched in, setting up the samples for the slides while he wrote out the labels in an effort to convince him to knock off early and play hookey for a couple of hours.

Andrew wasn't all that hard to tempt as:
a, I was doing his work and
b, Mr. Russell's very attractive and recently divorced daughter was supposed to be dropping by so, while our desires may have been mutually exclusive, our destination was not. An innocuous comment on the weather and the casual mentioning of Sarah's possible visit was all it took. We flipped on the centrifuge, snuck out of the lab and headed for the kitchen garden.

I had planned to transplant the strawberry runners Mr. Russell had promised me from the main garden plot for my border but ended up in the potting shed helping his grandson, Thomas, with his school science project on Eco-friendly power sources instead.

Silly, unimaginative tyke that he was, he merely wanted to make a boring old potato clock. Andrew, trying to impress the mother no doubt, suggested instead that Thomas make a clock that used a water battery so there would be no waste (I.E. no potato to throw away) at the end which would be more Eco-friendly. Thomas said "Ooo..." and Andrew ran off to lab for supplies.

I had read the same article and of course had to put my 2 cents (pence?) in and suggested that the clock be made from a living, growing plant so there would not only be no waste, but oxygen produced as well. Ha! super Eco-friendly. Thomas said "Aah..." and I ran out to my plot to find a good plant.

Then his grandfather, with a twinkle in his eye, suggested we create a window garden box deep enough to house several living potato plants so not only would there be no waste, there would be more oxygen and you could make potatoes Au gratin. Thomas said "Ooh!" and Mr. Russell went to pick out some wood.

We adults were elbow deep into the project when it suddenly occurred to me that Thomas was actually a pretty smart kid after all.

Andrew was stripping wires and I was applying primer to the window box when Zelig and Dr. Levin showed up. Zelig took it all in at a glance then immediately set to whittling a functioning mechanical clock entirely from root vegetables.

Dr. Levin didn't seem to mind the change in venue a bit as, like all good British subjects, he adored gardening. He had an especial fondness for orchids and Mr. Russell had an especially nice collection of them in the bromides section of the greenhouse. The two of them wandered over to the hot house to see the jejewoodia jiewhoei specimen that had just arrived from Borneo arguing amiably over the merits of cross-species fertilization. Zelig threw out a comment about plant propagation powders before turning back to carving cogs out of a turnip. Personally, I prefer grubbing through weeds and dirt to pollinating plants with a paint brush but hey, whatever floats your boat.

Walter arrived not too long after, having read the scrolling marquee note on the lab bulletin board's LED display. He took us all in with a raised eyebrow then deftly removed the comic book Thomas was reading from his hands, rolled it into a tube and firmly rapped the boy on the head with it.

"Ow! Mr. Walter!"

"Mr. Webber, I am quite certain that I have mentioned to you before that my staff is not to be used to complete your homework assignments." Thomas sighed, shuffled over to the planter and resignedly picked up a paint brush. "I would have hoped, of course, that the adults in this room would know better than to fall victim to your Tom Sawyer routine but I remain confident they intended to ensure you did at least a modicum of the work on your project."

Andrew and I grinned sheepishly and put down our tools.

Zelig glanced up and said, "What school project? I thought we were just making clocks." then went back to fastening the claw feet he had carved from some radishes to the timepiece. "Course little slick here can always buy it off me once it's done."

"Or we could make soup." Snickered Andrew, just before Zelig beaned him with a beet.

"I'm sorry Walter, I'm afraid he's incorrigible." Said Thomas' mother, gazing at Walter with her limpid blue eyes.

"Sarah Elizabeth Russell, it is my personal belief that that particular term was invented to describe you as a child."

"Now Walter, I wasn't all that bad." She said pouting her pretty pink lips.

"I seem to recall you convincing the cook to bake the 15 dozen cookies you needed to earn your Girl Guides baking badge."

"I had a cut on my finger." She said holding up a perfectly manicured pinky.

"Then there was poor captain Trent who unwittingly wrote your final essay on the Battle of Waterloo for your A levels."

"I listed him in the bibliography."

"Then there was the scale model wind turbine..."

"I never told him to use those engine parts from the Bentley I swear!"

"Hmm." Said Walter.

"Perhaps, I was a just bit incorrigible." She said, smiling winsomely at him.

"Perhaps?"

"But I never could get one over on you. Could I Walter?" She said playfully batting her long eyelashes.

"I am, alas, immune to your glamour Ms. Russell. Please practice your cantrips on a younger subject."

Instead of being injured by this rebuff, Sara laughed, delighted. She turned to us grinning. "Walter has long suspected me of being a changeling." She said.

I frowned and rubbed at a bit of paint on my hand. Inexplicably annoyed by this exchange.

"Oh, surely not." Said Andrew ingratiatingly.

"Interesting," Said Zelig. "Are you?"

"Could be." She said winking.

Walter cleared his throat. "Ms. Doyle, I am supervising upgrades to the roof''s gun emplacements." I smiled wiping off my hands on a rag prepared to go with him. "Perhaps we can meet in two hours in the study for tea?"

"Oh, OK." I said disappointed.

"Very good." He said putting his watch away. "Please do not forget to bring the Daniel Tammet biography you were going to lend me I am looking forward to reading it."

Zelig looked at me suspiciously.

"Sure." I said.

"Excellent." He said then turned to Thomas. "Mr. Webber," He admonished the boy, who was morosely dabbing the same spot on the planter over and over again with his paintbrush, "sooner started..."

"Sooner finished. Yes I know Mr. Walter." Thomas grumbled.

Walter raised an eyebrow and fixed Thomas with an icy stare his fingers drumming on the comic book tube.

Thomas squeaked with alarm and immediately began painting in earnest.

Walter nodded satisfied then handed the comic book to Sarah. "I would recommend corporal punishment but it never seemed to work on you." He said, then left.

"Ha!" Said Sarah to Walter's disappearing back. She turned to us arms akimbo. "He's awfully mean to me for a man who's seen me naked."

Andrew made a strange choking sound, Zelig put down his knife and looked extremely interested. I frowned and cast a worried glance over at her son. This did not seem an appropriate conversation to have in front of a 10 year old.

"Really mother," Said Thomas rolling his eyes but still painting. "She was four." He said to me.

"Five, actually." She laughed as Andrew and I sagged with relief. Zelig just shrugged and went back to carving veneer inlays for the clock face from a carrot.

"Well now I have to know." Said Andrew, his heart no longer broken.

"It's quite a funny story actually." She said. "There used to be an annual fete held for the staff on the summer solstice. There was music and games with prizes and all kinds of food and Father would have the whole day off to spend with Mother and me. It was better than Christmas.

Well, I had talked my father into buying me the the fanciest, most beautiful dress in the world the week before and, of course, insisted on wearing it to the fete. When mother found out how much daddy had spent, she went spare and forbade me to participate in the games. She said, as I was going to be wearing that dress to church for the rest of my life, I was to do nothing that might tear or stain it in the least. I almost said I didn't care because I looked so nice and already had lots of ribbons from last year but then I saw the prizes.

Sir Integra's grandmother has just returned from a trip to France and had brought back the most wonderful things. There were bottles of brandy and perfume, gloves and wallets and even a haute couture hat for the adults. For the children there was candy, treats and toys of all kinds but for the first first child to win two contests, they would have their choice of either a hand wrought silver belt buckle, a tin of the worlds best Turkish Delight or this painted china shepherdess.

That shepherdess was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my entire life. She was perfection from the curly blond hair spilling out from a lovely straw bonnet covered with ribbons and violets to the black velvet slipper peeking out from the hem of her palest of pale blue gown. I loved her from the moment I saw her and and would do anything to win her.

I begged my mother to reconsider, offered to do extra chores, walk the dog, even clean my room but she would not budge. I tried getting my father on my side but he just patted my cheek and told me if I as good and listened to my mum he would buy me a china doll next pay day. Mother told daddy to stop spoiling me and that I was old enough to behave myself without being bribed. I tried to explain that I did not want a china doll, I wanted a shepherdess. I wanted that shepherdess and just knew I could win her so couldn't I just please, please, please, please, please sign up for the games.

Mother got cross and said that I had enough dolls and didn't need another and to stop whining. That's when I made the big mistake of correcting her and telling her it was not a doll but a china shepherdess. That's when mother, who was eight months pregnant with my brother Tommy at the time, started yelling. She said she did not care if it was a china shepherdess or a golden idol, that if I were to place one foot on the lower field while wearing that dress she would flay me alive and if Father said one more word about buying me dolls she would boil him in oil. She always did get a bit cranky in her last trimester.

Father, who knew better than to argue with Mother when she was angry and pregnant, tried to make peace by suggesting we go up to the gardens so Mother could sit in the shade while he and I fetched cookies and lemonade. Mother agreed and firmly took my hand to lead me away.

Sadly, I turned my head to take one last look at my shepherdess where she stood dainty and beautiful amidst the other prizes on the table. I could not stand the thought of another child winning her. My heart was broken and I would never smile again.

Suddenly, and I will swear this to my dying day, the shepherdess looked right at me and gave me a saucy wink. I gasped and stumbled. When I looked back she was once again a prim and proper china shepherdess standing frozen, a serene, knowing expression on her face but in that moment I knew, just knew she wanted me to win her. Mother gave my hand a jerk to get me going again and I complied, a plot fomenting in my brain..

As soon as we had settled Mother in the garden, I set my plan into action. First, I asked my father if I could go with my best friend Miriam to the gazebo to watch the tableaux then, right in the middle of Florence Nightingale's "Lady of the Lamp", I pretended to hear my mother call me. I dodged around the Splat a Rat and cut across the upper field to the top of the obstacle course. I carefully removed my dress, folded it neatly so it wouldn't crease then hid myself in a bush by the starting line and waited."

We all saw where the story was going but couldn't wait to hear what happened next. Only Thomas seemed immune rolling his eyes before starting the second coat of paint on his window box.

"Bang! went the starter gun." She said. "I leaped out of the bushes and on to the obstacle course just behind the other children wearing nothing but my undies, socks and patent leather shoes.

 By the time we hit the first wall, I had passed the stragglers and was in the thick of it. I soared over the rope pit and emerged from the crawl tunnel s neck and neck with Robert Parker who usually won everything but not today.

I scrambled up the last wall like a monkey, Robert Parker a hairsbreadth behind me. From the top of the wall, I could see the finish line, just beyond the sand hazard. I was going to win.

I swung my legs over the edge and jumped. Something tugged at me for a moment bringing me up short, then there was a loud ripping sound and I dropped lightly to the ground. I heard Robert Parker gasp and giggle before falling off the wall and landing face first into the sand. The crowed cheered as I raced across the finish line bare bottomed, covered in dirt and grinning like a fool."

"I like this story." Said Zelig, twirling his knife. "Lots of nudity and running about. Very exciting" Andrew and I nodded our agreement.

"Wait," Said Sarah. "It gets better."

We leaned forward all ears.

"Lord Hellsing almost fell over he was laughing so hard. He always loved a good laugh. I think even Walter smiled a bit. He used to smile sometimes back then." She said, a bit wistfully. "I did a little victory dance as I took my ribbon and had just turned to walk to the upper field for the next race when I spotted Mother waddling towards me at full steam her face like thunder.

I squeaked with fear and ran for the nearest tree thinking that in her condition, she wouldn't be able to follow much further up than a couple of meters. I flew at the trunk and had just gotten a leg over the first branch when Walter plucked me from the tree like so much reluctant fruit. 'I doubt you will be safe there Miss Russell,' He said, tucking me under his arm. 'I think perhaps it would be best to come with me.' Lord Hellsing laughed even harder watching me struggle in Walter's grip. 'Quite so Walter.' He said wiping a tear from his eye. 'You smuggle that hellion to safety and I'll distract the mother.' He stopped and gave Walter a sly wink. 'For once, I'll deal with the mess while you sneak off with the girl eh?' Walter nodded and began lugging me towards the main house.

You have to understand mind you that all of us children lived in awe of Walter. He was like some distant god, rarely interacting with us but was always watching. Not a cookie stolen or a prank pulled that Walter didn't catch you out and find some horrible chore for punishment. We weren't often allowed in the main house but heaven help the child who tracked mud in when we were. And the stories the adults told when they thought we weren't listening were absolutely terrifying. I mean, we all figured out about the Hellsing charter pretty early and Daddy was still on active duty back then but even he talked about Walter in whispers. He was never actually mean to us and kites would always find their way out of trees and broken dolls would invariably be mended. Still, when Walter spoke, we minded.

So, you can imagine his surprise when instead of snuffling quietly and accepting my fate, I began fighting back with a vengeance. I yelled at him that we were going the wrong way and when that didn't work I tried kicking his legs and pummelling his back. I even tried biting him but he simply folded me in half and tucked me back under his arm so I hung upside-down.

Still, I would not give up, demanding that he take me to the upper field. Refusing to tell him where my clothes were, insisting I was too dirty to put my dress back on anyway and that I would not take a bath no matter what, he could not make me so he might as well just let me go!

So he did. Right into the koi pond.

I thrashed about in the water kicking and sputtering. 'Are you clean enough now Miss Russel?' He asked. I jumped up, glaring at him prepared to make a run for it. 'I wouldn't advise it.' Said Walter. 'You won't get far.' At that moment I heard the starting gun go off for the spoon race. I burst into tears and sat right back down into the water for a good cry sobbing over and over that he'd made me miss it.

'We'll have no more of that Miss Russell.' Said Walter handing me a handkerchief. 'Perhaps you should tell me what this is all about.' So I sat dripping wet in the koi pond, fish nibbling at my toes and poured my heart out to Walter. finally I asked him if he hadn't ever wanted something so much that he would do almost anything to get it, even if everyone else thought it was stupid.

He was quiet a moment then said, 'Sometimes, it is not just a question of being willing to do what it takes to get what you want but also of being willing to face the consequences. Are you willing to face the consequences Miss Russell?' I nodded solemnly and hiccuped. 'Very good then Miss Russel. Blow you nose and come along' He said holding out his hand to me. He helped me from the koi pond and we started back towards the house.

'But Mr. Walter,' I asked quietly. 'How am I to win? the egg and spoon was my best event and we missed it. Robert's sure to have won and next up is the blancmange eating contest and no one ever beats Robert in that.' Walter just said he had absolute faith in me and while he would not allow cheating he was not adverse to evening the odds a bit in my favour. I looked down to where my little hand disappeared inside his big, capable one. He wore fingerless gloves back then and I could see the fine, lines of countless scars running along his fingers like a spider web. I knew how he had gotten them and I knew I should be afraid of what he was but he was the only one who understood. He was the one who was going to help me win that shepherdess.

And with Walter helping me, I couldn't lose.

I grinned and squeezed his hand. 'we're going to win.' I said when he looked down. 'Of course.' He replied and led me into the house.

As I sat down at the blancmange table I surveyed my competition. There was Robert Parker, of course, then George Pratchette who was rather cute but unfortunately prone to nose bleeds under pressure and finally William Morgan who didn't really care if he won but just liked eating blancmanges. Robert was the one to beat as his capacity for eating and belching was unrivalled by any child on the estate but thanks to Walter I had a strategy and a fighting chance. I double checked the garters fastened on the rolled up sleeves of the shirt Walter had lent me and prepared for battle.*

*Walter had dressed me in one of his old shirts which, even after belting it with a tie, still came well down past my knees. He then secured the sleeves with garters and had pulled back my hair in a tight pony tail. Lord Hellsing had taken one look at me swimming in Walter's old shirt and declared it marvellous to now have a new travel sized mini-Walter for his convenience.

The start was sounded and I plunged face first into the blancmange without thought or finesse. I didn't even chew. Per Walter's instruction, my one and only job was to consume.

While I mindlessly shovelled that sticky gelatinous mass into my mouth, Walter's tactics evened the odds. First, a word in cook's ear and the strawberry blancmange normally reserved for William, was placed in front of me while he was served the lime custard, his least favourite. That should slow him down a bit should he decide to make a go of it. Next, and I still feel a bit bad about this, Walter positioned pretty Melissa Smyth in the front row, just between Robert and George. Now, Robert had crush on Melissa while, Melissa had a thing for George and just before the signal, Melissa shouted out to George that if he should win, she was going to give him a big kiss.

Robert got angry and yelled at George to stop flirting with Melissa. George was so embarrassed, that he got a nose bleed right then and there. William, took one look at George and lost his appetite. By the time any of them remembered there was a contest going on, I was half way down to the plate.

I didn't stop to gloat, I just kept eating. Even when I heard my mother's angry voice as she ploughed through the crowed, I didn't slow down. I just kept shovelling that blancmange into my mouth until there was nothing left but plate.

Next I knew, a smiling Lord Hellsing had swung me up from the bench and pinned a 1st place ribbon to my sticky chest declaring that he'd never seen the like. Then, with swat on the behind, he sent me over to a waiting Walter forestalling my parents with a request to allow Walter to at least clean the condemned before her execution. Father consented, trying not to laugh. Mother frowned but nodded.

Savouring my last moments of freedom, I raced up the slope ahead of Walter and with a savage war cry, leapt into the koi pond. Walter, eventually fished me out of the pond and within 10 minutes I was dried, dressed, brushed and looking neat as a pin. My shoes, of course, were ruined but my dress was spotless.

Walter asked me if I was ready to pay the piper, I said yes and he bowed and offered me his arm. The stalwart knight escorting his brave princess to her doom.

It was the the happiest moment of my life. I mean I knew I was in trouble and I felt bad for making Mother angry but standing there, with the shepherdess in my hands at last it all went away. There was only me and my shepherdess. I stared down at her and stroked her cheek lovingly. Her serene gaze assured me she had never doubted for a moment that I would win her.

I missed two sleepovers and had to sweep the kitchen and feed the dog for a month but it was worth it.  I've never worked so hard for anything before or since."  Her eyes got a faraway cast.  "You know, I didn't keep a lot of things from when I was little but I kept her, I kept my shepherdess.  Still have her."  She smiled impishly then winked.  "That, and my hopeless crush on Walter."  She quipped.

LETTERS FROM HELLSING LII

"I can explain that." Said Seras.

"Please do." Said Walter.

And she did.

Three times actually.

The first time to Walter, the Geese and myself, then she had to start over again when a disgruntled Captain Chambers came charging in with a damp, but no longer so sticky corp. Beddings demanding to know what was so blasted funny about that 'heathen she-devil' attacking one of his men. Finally, after Captain Burnadett stopped laughing, Walter selected a handful of us to troop over to Sir Integra's office to relate the hilarious content of the evenings exploits for her amusement.

Well, she wasn't so much amused as annoyed...Then interested...Then extremely, disturbingly, interested and focused on me.

"...Then after I disabled the alarm and jimmied the lock on the roof vent, I broke through the fire wall, swung down the sprinkler pipes, crawled across the drop ceiling, popped out one of the tiles and jumped down. That's when I encountered Beddings and was forced to subdue him so he wouldn't sound the alarm."

"And how precisely was that accomplished?" Asked Sir Integra.

"I, um...ahem, hit him with the tea tray and shoved him in a closet."

This story might seem horribly embarrassing for corp. Beddings but he still looked over at Seras with a mixture of gratitude and grudging respect because the full truth of the matter, if the mental images I was picking up from Seras were correct, was far more embarrassing.

Apparently, Beddings had been juggling the tray in one hand in an effort to sneak a taste of the home-made quince jelly captain Chamber's mother had sent and that said captain had requested be brought up with his evening tea. He had just gotten a spoonful into his mouth when Seras had dropped down from the ceiling. Startled, he had tossed up his arms causing the tray and its contents to go flying. Seras had caught the tray but the teapot, cup, toast and plates had all crashed to the floor and the jam pot had landed top-side down, on the poor corporal's head.

To make matters worse, he had tried to back peddle away from her only to slip and fall in a puddle of tea, all while trying to scream through a mouth full of spoon and quince jelly. Unfortunately,when Seras had gone to help him, she had also slipped on the tea and had instead ended up clocking him in the head with the tray she had forgotten she was still holding,thus knocking him unconscious and spreading jelly all down the front of his uniform.

So in actuality, Beddings had pretty much subdued himself. With just a bit of help from Seras.

All things considered, I think they both made the right choice in letting the official version stand uncontested.

Seras did however, after a gentle mental nudge from me, spill the beans about using the secret tunnel. Which was really hard for her as she was so chuffed over the proud gleam she saw in Walter's eye when she described how cleverly she had distracted me and defeated Stewart's tracking device with an air filled plastic zip lock bag filched from the kitchen.

Marks had given me a highly suspicious glance but couldn't prove a thing. Telepathy can be fun.

Also by unspoken agreement, Seras and I both decided not to mention that brief bit of blending that seemed to occur towards the end. We wanted a little time to mull this over, just between us two before others tried to jump in and analyse it.

As Seras was winding down her report to Sir Integra and answering final questions, I began to feel an itchy awareness crawling up my spine and over my scalp.

Alucard.

He was there but not there. Opening a red eye in the back of my brain and using me as an antenna of sorts to focus his non-corperal presence. A silent chuckle rolled like an oily caress across my cerebellum as he shuffled through my recent recollections comparing them to what was being said tsking once or twice over our little white omissions. " I see that I am going to have to tutor the two of you on the art of lying. You're pathetic, the both of you really and that reflects badly on me as your master."

I snorted derisively attempting to turn it into a sneeze to deflect the curious glances my interruption had gained. "Oh now that's just sad." Sent Alucard "Are you deliberately trying to embarrass me? If so, it's working."

I actually had to fake another sneeze to keep from giggling. He sounded just like my mother whenever she caught me opening a bag of Doritos or some other pesky plastic container with my expensively straightened teeth.*

*This admonition pretty much covered mastication of any and all sundry non-food items including, but not limited to; biting off my sewing thread, chewing on pens and, of course, crunching on ice. Which, while technically a food item, is quite simply, in my mother's book, just wrong. **

**Interestingly enough, the cost of straightening my teeth by my mother's calculation seemed increase exponentially with each infraction until I was quite certain, even after adjusting for inflation, that my parents had paid more more for my orthodontia than NASA had spent sending a man to the moon. Give or take a few million.

"Gesundheit'?" Said Marks sceptically as he and Walter both offered me a handkerchief.

"Interesting." Quipped Alucard. As I diplomatically dabbed my face with one of the tissues Anders had given me earlier for my bloody nose.

"Please go away." I sent as he scuttled across my frontal lobe tickling me from the inside and causing me to sneeze for real this time. "Oh, drat!" I said as my nose started bleeding again. Ack, what a mess.

"I think you look prettier that way but perhaps it's not me you wish to impress."

"Oh, go psychologically scar someone else. I'm busy here." I growled as I attempted to staunch the bleeding.

It was then I noticed everyone was looking at me funny. Had I said that last bit out loud? "Whad?" I asked, pinching my nose.

"You growled." Said Marks, smiling slightly.

"Dib by?"

He nodded, eyes twinkling.

"Oh, tell me it's not that inebriated Visigoth your trying to impress? How disappointing." Muttered Alucard, his razor edged eye scything through my brain matter.

"Ow! Get out!" I sent. Stamping my foot and earning more stares.

Sir Integra tapped her fingers on her desks impatiently. "If you are both quite through playing?" She asked with raised eyebrow.

"Of course" Came Alucard's voice directly behind me. I had felt him materialize and knew he was there but still startled slightly when his hand came down possessively on my shoulder.

An odd discourse ensued as we discussed possible practical applications for my new found skills. When it was pointed out that a schematic might not always be available for whatever structure was being scanned, it was suggested that my link with Seras could be used as a reference point to judge how close or far from the target she was. A sort of undead game of "warmer,colder,hot!" and it was agreed that we should immediately begin field testing both the range and accuracy of my abilities.

We enthusiastically began drawing up plans while Alucard blithely made both helpful and non-helpful suggestions. I participated as best I could but kept getting distracted whenever Alucard would fix his ferric gaze on the sgt. then lightly trace his fingers over the pentagram bruise on my left shoulder blade a challenging smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Marks, in turn, would throw back a casual smile at me while thoughtfully tapping his fingers over the silver tipped wooden stake he kept strapped just behind his gun holster.

"Oh I do love the alpha males, they're so easy to bait."

"Oh and your such a sweet tempered little puppy."

"No, I am the wolf to their lap dog. Feral and powerful beyond their darkest imaginings. They may play at the hunt but I am the true predator. Their wants and desires, their very lives are of no consequence to me"

"And yet you fight beside them. Protect their lives."

"The master finds them useful so they live. It is her that I serve for as long as she has the cunning and will to control me. But this one" He said, indicating Marks. "I might have to kill him just on general principle."

"That principle being?"

"He annoys me."

I rolled my eyes.

"Besides, he dares interfere with my Angel and I did not go all this trouble just so some cur could sniff after you. I did not make you for the likes of him."

"I suppose then you 'made' me for the likes of her, that cross dressing master of yours?"

"Perhaps."

"You can not control whom I like and dislike."

"You might think so but you would be wrong. Oh sweet Angel," He said twisting a lock of my hair around his finger. "I have such wonderful plans for you. I simply will not allow something as unimportant as your delusions of free will get in the way of our success."

I snorted and thought about hiding communion wafers in his coffin.

The discussion around Sir Integra's desk began winding down. It had been decided that as soon as I could pass a final field test driving the Tortoise I would be sent out with the Geese on a mission.

"She shan't be exiting the vehicle but I suppose we should still arm her so she's not totally defenceless." Said Sir Integra. "Can you fire a gun Doyle?"

"Well..."

"Well what? Can you shoot or not?"

"Oh, I can shoot a gun, no problem. Hitting the target well, that's another matter." I said, thinking back on my one and only mortifying trip ever to a firing range.

This earned me an an icy stare from Sir Integra and an amused smile from Alucard as he retrieved the mental image of the one spot on the assailant target I had finally managed to hit. "Well that would certainly slow a human male down but I am not certain how effective it would be on a ghoul."

I flushed and bit my tongue.

"Always aim for the head or the heart." Seras chimed in helpfully.

"Oh, she hit the head all right." He chuckled. "Just not the one you're thinking of."

Seras blushed and smothered a giggle as Alucard sent her the image.

The captain smiled as he tut, tutted me with a finger. "Very naughty of you Chanson. We best be careful with the safety when we train her then, eh Marks?"

Marks grinned and even Sir Integra twitched her lips slightly.

I ground my teeth and wondered out loud about getting my hands on some holy water. Which just made Alucard laugh harder.

"I think it would be best for me to handle this aspect of Ms. Doyle's training." Said Walter quietly and without a trace of humor.

"Yes." Said Sir Integra, her gaze sliding across the room's occupants thoughtfully. "I think that would be best."

The captain looked indifferent, Marks seemed mildly annoyed, Alucard, as always, looked smug and Walter, well, as far as I could tell under his placid façade, seemed I guess the word would be satisfied.

I can only assume this was because with that statement, this whole messy, jam filled, fruit throwing, nose bleeding, target shooting incident could be drawn to a close and some semblance of order restored to his domain. I was more than happy to comply.