A/N: Eh. Flaky chapter. Hope you enjoy anyway. Next one will be with the Wild Geese, I'm thinking. Dun know.


Everyone forgets about the elderly.

Anne sat on a bench outside in the manor grounds, doting on her two dogs. Around her, flowers she had planted were plucked off or trampled on, and roots scattered about her feet. The guilty animals initially backed away from the elder human as she chided them for creating such a big mess and ruining her small patch of flowers. It was such a grand mansion with acres of land for them to run around in, and somehow the two girls, Ladybird and Laura, managed to destroy the one patch Anne grew her flowers in.

After her disappointment subsided, Anne was quick to forgive her two companions and provided them with ample affection. They were the closest thing to children she ever had, and she spoiled them rotten to the best of her abilities. Ladybird, she thought, would need a grooming soon, and Laura was behind on her anxiety medication. Things were busy around the mansion, but it was no excuse to be negligent.

Upon hearing the faintest rustle, Anne pulled out her gun and aimed it at the source of the sound, only to find an amused Walter with a hand faintly up and another holding an umbrella. "Sprightly as ever, I see."

Anne scoffed. "You startled me."

"My deepest apologies. You should be getting inside, the weather doesn't seem too agreeable today."

"Does it matter?"

Walter let out a small breath as he stared at the woman getting damp due to the light drizzle of rain. She gazed into the distance, apathetic towards her surroundings and ashamed of her pathetic presence. There was nothing he could say to the woman that meant anything to her. The story was the same as always: she was old, lonely, and likely forgotten by her own family. A proper price for her sins. The elderly were never missed, she'd muse. They were tossed aside for the freshness of youth, and inside their wrinkled bodies, only felt the weight of time as they inched closer to an irrelevant death.

It was a burden the old butler felt as well. The burden of a useless and trivial existence, his once robust body humbled by time's cruelty and weight of human frailty. Walter sat beside the unfazed woman, finding an odd consolation in her company. Perhaps it was because they were two old retirees with rusty knees sitting on rocking chairs when they weren't serving their master. In any case, she could use the umbrella. Anne had aged well in physical appearance, but her body was more fragile than his, something he imagined was a result of decades spent grieving.

Being her only human company, Anne leaned against the old butler, resting her head on his shoulder. She could still recall the age where she thought it'd be scandalous to do so, now she couldn't give a rat's wet bottom. Walter, in return, could recall the age he'd find it slightly irritating considering his upright and self-important attitude, now he put his arm around her and gave even less of a care about it. The only thing he could care about at that moment was making sure the dogs didn't spray mud all over the bottom of his trousers. He lost count of the times he requested Anne keep her mutts at bay. They were large, frequently dirty, malodourous, and slobbered all of his shoes and the floors when they were let inside.

"Nobody remembers us," Anne muttered. "Why would anyone waste their time remembering the old and decrepit?"

"Come on, now. Getting old isn't all that dreadful. We're enjoying our prosperity after all those years of violence. This is the delight of proper English gentlemen and ladies."

Anne glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow. "You? Enjoying your years without a drop of violence? Look at you lying to me. I thought we were better friends than that, Walter. That's all rubbish, we both know it."

"Perhaps, but the sentiment still matters."

"Bugger it all."

Walter chuckled, relaxing his usually stiff posture. "Yes, I suppose so."

Dreamily, she touched his gloved palm, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes in thought. "Time is a terrible thing, Walter. The only good that comes from it are fond memories. Even the undead, standing in their immortality, are tortured by Time's Watch. While we shrivel up into dust, those monsters are driven to deepest depths of madness."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, love. Time is an abstract construction; it chases the common man throughout his life, ticks readily in his ears counting down to the moment his body is thrown into a pit of dirt. A fearsome thing, but a tormentor? Hardly. Time is a scribe…keeping record of the cruelty life inflicts upon those living in its realm as it mocks the suffering. It will one day end for you and I. Time will move on, and in death, we escape the maddening burden of this existence. But monsters such as Alucard…Time remains apathetic to their cries as long as they have a place among the living."

Anne nodded in agreement, eventually looking up at the aged butler. For a second, she saw his youthful face once more. It's been so long, but she still remembered how handsome he used to be. In truth, he was still handsome, a right fit old man. Perhaps in another life, they would've gotten along better instead spending all those years resenting and scorning one another.

Noticing her glance, Walter locked eyes with her, silver meeting gold, both filled with memories of a lifetime of horrors. He didn't flinch when she gently touched his face, having always wondered what exactly that woman felt for him. There were times where he could swear she loved him, and other times where he felt like another piece of furniture in her presence, just a simple colleague with his own duties.

Anne, smiling, winked at him. "You're wondering what I feel for you, am I right?"

"If you insist."

She laughed. "Whatever you want, Walter. I feel whatever you'd like."

"I'd like some honesty. As you said yourself, I thought we were better friends than to lie to each other."

"Oh, I am being honest. Almost 70 years old and you still don't understand a bloody thing."

She stood, deciding her clothing was soiled enough for the day. Walter soon stood as well, sharing his umbrella with her. At the back entrance into the mansion, Anne paused for a moment. She turned towards him, her stance still gracious, as any proper Englishwoman should be no matter how wet and dirty she was at the moment.

There was no hurry, and so she pressed her lips against his slowly. It was no longer a surprise that he accepted, even kissed her back. It had stopped being a surprise more than a decade ago, when Anne let go of her guilt in being a woman and Walter felt an overwhelming desire to escape from his aging reflection for a moment.

"You were right," she whispered, parting from him. "Love is a liar, an old sleepless fool. All that nonsense it convinces you to believe…even the worst of absurdities."

The corner of his lips curved into a smile. "And you were right yourself, I must confess. Possessing it does provide a rather blissful respite from a devastating reality. Lies make everything so much sweeter."

"Are we through being philosophers?"

"Only for the evening," he joked.

Before they parted ways, Anne quickly grabbed his sleeve. "Walter…don't ever leave me alone in this world."

He paused, deep in thought. Surely, she had affection for him if she was going to say silly things like that. Then again, a woman so desperately lonely, why wouldn't she say that to the nearest old sod she found? After all, she seemed so calm saying it, her voice only tired rather than tender. Never mind it all. He smiled at her, nodding once. "As you wish."

"And Walter…"

"Yes?"

"You'll never understand a bloody thing."