The comedy is that it's serious

I don't own Hellsing. I only own Rowan. And I wish I owned that Vespa.

"Miss Ascot."

"Please, Sir Hellsing. ROWAN. I despise being called 'miss'." Integral's lips twitched.

"Very well. Rowan. What did you DO to Walter?" Rowan looked over at Walter, sleeping peacefully. His bed had been tucked between the bathroom and closet door. "The entire room could hear you arguing."

"Oh, that." Rowan shrugged and jotted Integral's temperature on a notepad. "He was reluctant to have a female present when soaking in a medicinal bath. I was able to convince him otherwise."

"Why did you not call a footman? Or Dr. Trevellian?" Rowan shrugged again and checked the teapot.

"I didn't think of it. I can be rather...proprietary when it comes to my treatments." Integral looked Rowan over carefully. The apothecary had an air of friendly casualness, something Integral never encountered. She wasn't quite sure how to handle it. Integral covered a yawn. Rowan smiled and tucked the covers around the knight. Integral blinked at her in surprise. "Go to sleep, Sir Hellsing. Denying your body's needs now will only make your illness worse. I'll have some fresh juice ready for you when you wake up."

"I haven't been tucked in in years." Integral muttered, closing her eyes. Rowan chuckled softly.

"Then you're overdue." A cool, soft hand smoothed back her hair. Integral smiled slightly and fell asleep. Rowan checked Walter, then slipped out the door, leaving it cracked. Dr. Trevellian and a footman were standing outside, talking. Rowan grinned at them. "Has the fruit arrived?"

"We just got back, Miss Ascot." The footman said, handing her a receipt. Rowan tucked it into her pocket and nodded to Michael.

"Walk with me, please. You, Thomas, right?"

"Yes, miss." Thomas said, bowing slightly.

"Mind the door, please. If you hear them waking up, call me. You have the number."

"Yes, miss." Thomas took his post. Michael and Rowan headed for the kitchen, Rowan keeping a close eye on the route.

"How's it going?" Michael asked, nodding to a maid scurrying by.

"They're both sleeping peacefully. Temperature's down to 99.5 on Walter, 99.8 on Integral. And I got permission to snoop the library tonight." Rowan grinned, looking very pleased with herself.

"How often do you want to apply the hydrotherapy?" Michael asked as they descended a flight of stairs.

"Twice a day, morning and evening. Fevers are always worse at those times, best to hit it then. I'll bring the supplies." The couple turned left and entered a huge kitchen. Staff was bustling about, preparing evening meals. Rowan's fruit was arranged next to a juicer, a knife and a peeler. A tray complete with a pitcher and three glasses sat beyond the fruit. The housekeeper spotted them and waved to the juicer.

"Help yourself!" She called over the noise. "We'll put a plate aside for you as well, Miss Ascot. Don't suppose Sir Integral and Walter will be eating much tonight."

"No, juice is best for them right now!" Rowan called back, dashing over to the juicer. She eagerly got to work prepping the fruit. Michael wove his way over to the housekeeper.

"I'll be going now, but I will be back tomorrow morning. Don't worry about your mistress and Walter, they are in the best hands."

"I can see that, Doctor. Thank you for bringing her."

"My pleasure." Michael took his leave, making sure Rowan waved to him in between stuffing chunks of pineapple into the juicer. As he collected his things, Alucard appeared.

"How long have you known Rowan?" Alucard asked, blocking Michael's exit. Michael frowned.

"Four years. She moved here to set up her own apothecary after graduation. Her credentials are impeccable and she has assisted me in many cases."

"I am not looking for your praise, Doctor."

"Then what are you looking for?"

"Her soul."

The tragedy is how you're gonna spend...

Playhouse Disney has a new show. It's called "Doodlebops" and is nothing more then candy-colored people running around singing. And not even good songs.

But because it's flashy and candy-colored, the kiddo enjoys it. Even if he does pronounce it "Poodleboxs" sometimes. I've had to work on that with him. The characters have very white teeth.

What was I saying?

Ah. Job interview Friday. Here's hoping it actually amounts to something. I know I'm shooting myself in the foot for turning down jobs in Golden or Boulder, but gods! I am NOT getting up at 4 am to catch a 5 am bus, to ride for two hours+, to get to work by 8, work 8 hours, take another 2 hour+ bus ride home, to get home between 7 and 8 at night. UGH! Especially not a temp job. It's not worth that amount of hassle. Downtown I'll take. I like downtown.

One of Wolf's nieces is getting married in August. This feels weird to me. His youngest sister is about 5 years older then me. His neices are around my age. It's so strange, being in a family like this. I'm used to being the eldest of my generation, not this in-between area.

*Birdhouse comes on*

Argh! I can never listen to this song the same again. Thank you Shine.

*runs off to find the parody*

Oh yeah. I'll have another installment of this flu story as soon as I get the dialogue between Alucard and Rowan worked out.

Took less time then I expected.

Hellsing is not mine. Don't bother asking for money. Rowan is mine. You can't have her. So there!

'Midnight and I'm waiting on the 12:05..." Rowan sang to herself, glancing at the clock in the kitchen. 12:01. "Still the witching hour." Rowan chuckled and puttered about, putting a nice lunch together. Her patients were asleep, again. They had responded well so far, drinking several cups of juice and eating some toast. Their fevers were under control and the body aches had been soothed away with boneset infusions. Rowan was feeling quite pleased with herself. At the rate things were going, excepting some horrible relapse, Integral and Walter would be in the clear in five days, not seven.

"I do believe this calls for a little something." Rowan opened a likely door and flipped on the light inside. "Bingo! Wine cellar!" She trooped down the steps, humming. The housekeeper had given her free range in the kitchen, as long as she cleaned up after herself and didn't eat everything in sight. Rowan perused the racks of bottles, looking for something red. She found a label she recognized. "Ah, splendid." She carried the bottle up the steps and switched off the light. Kicking the door shut with her heel, she strolled over to the table. Arranged neatly on a tray was a roast beef sandwich, several carrot sticks, ranch dressing, a bowl of her favorite crisps and a large slice of red velvet cake with white chocolate frosting. Rowan put the bottle on the table and began searching for a corkscrew and a glass. Along the wall by the stoves, shadows began to condense. Rowan found a wine glass and put it on the tray. The shadows grew thicker and eyes appeared.

"I am not your friend, I'm not your only friend..." Rowan started to sing. She was well aware of something happening behind her and had no intention of giving that knowledge away. She still had questions and he was the best one to answer them. After all, it was just the two of them in the kitchen. "Playing on the Queen of Hearts, though you know it ain't really smart." Masses of red eyes blinked in a bizarre pattern. Rowan began opening drawers at random. She found the corkscrew in the third one. The eyes continued to blink. Rowan walked back over to the table and peeled the foil off the wine bottle, still singing random snatches of song, skipping between artists. Shoving the corkscrew into the bottle, she twisted it. "One note spelled lite." She clamped the sides down and yanked. The cork came out abruptly, Rowan spinning with the force to avoid dropping a very nice bottle of wine. Wine splashed over her hand and onto the floor. "Bloody hell." Rowan completed her spin and plunked the bottle on the table. Licking her hand, she went looking for a rag. A faint chuckle whispered in her mind.

"Lots of red eyes in the corner by the stove, they're watching over me." She sang in response, snagging a dishtowel. Kneeling, she cleaned up the wine. "No need to worry about it, 'cause I know that I won't be bit." She stood as Alucard rushed across the floor and materialized behind her. Cold hands closed on her shoulders and spun her around. Rowan stared up into Alucard's yellow-red eyes, gleaming fiercely behind his sunglasses.

"Are you so sure?"

"Would you have spent all that time skulking if your intention was to bite?" Alucard smiled, a deadly smile. Rowan smiled back. She could feel something going on between them, in her head. She wasn't sure what it was.

"It is more fun to stalk one's prey, lure them into a false sense of security, then strike."

"But you can't." Rowan reached up and touched the sigil on Alucard's right glove. "You're not allowed." Alucard tightened his grip. Rowan felt the chill of his body seep through to her bones as he yanked her close. He bent until they were nose to nose.

"I can if I wish, little girl." He growled, staring deep into her eyes.

"If you wished, I would already be dead. You have had plenty of opportunities. You haven't. Why?" Rowan whispered, meeting his gaze without fear. She knew very well she was playing with the worst kind of fire. The kind that could consume you in an instant and you would laugh as you melted. Alucard growled and thrust her away, shoving her into the table. He looked away.

"Integral needs you."

"So when Sir Hellsing is well, you'll hunt me down? Invade my bedroom while I sleep?" Alucard jerked and snapped his head around. Rowan frowned, wondering at the intensity of his gaze. Alucard smiled, a different, much more seductive smile.

"Would you like that?" He asked. Rowan braced her hands on the table and managed to shrug.

"I don't know. I've never been invaded."

'No, you haven't. Though not from lack of interest." Alucard was now staring at her speculatively. Rowan's frown deepened, wondering what he meant by that. "Strange. You're that old and yet you are pure. You would tempt any man, but you hold yourself aloof. You keep men away with laughter, not ice. Fascinating." Rowan blinked at him, then stiffened as she felt something tickle her mind.

"Hey! Hasn't Sir Hellsing taught you any manners?" She growled, raising her hand and making a warding gesture. "Get out of my head!" Alucard chuckled.

"That will not work on me, little witch. So, that is your game. You seek the power of plants. But magic will not keep you safe from a determined hunter."

"No, but silver will." Rowan retorted, drawing a knife from under her jersey. Alucard smirked at the six inch blade.

"You would have to be very close to use that. What is to stop me from using it against you?"

"The knowledge that I will report you to Sir Hellsing if you touch me without my consent."

"Ah, but what if you do consent?"

"Mind control does not constitute consent."

"I have already touched you, little witch." Alucard walked forward. Rowan raised her knife to a defensive level. "You did not complain. You seemed to enjoy it."

"You won't have me a second time." Alucard froze. Rowan kept her knife up, her body balanced in a fighting posture. Alucard looked her up and down, slowly, then burst out laughing.

"We shall see, my lady. We shall see." He disappeared. Rowan remained where she was, looking all around. After a few minutes of her neck not prickling, she sheathed the knife. Pouring herself a glass of wine, she corked the bottle and stowed it in the icebox. Collecting her tray, she headed out of the kitchen. She had a feeling being near Sir Hellsing would be the only way to guarantee her safety tonight.