A/N: Apologies that this is so short... I fell into a Miyazaki Marathon (Master Filmmaker Hayao Miyazaki - responsible for Prinncess Mononoke, Spirited Away, Kiki's Delivery Service... a man who's creations are well worth falling into.)

Will hvae the next chapter/conclusion up soon! Promise! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews!

Integrahad come to the conclusion that she was NOT alright after only a few minutes into their walk.

Her mind was too clouded, her muscles refused to respond to more than rote commands, and she could not feel… um… well… Whatever it was that she could no longer feel she could also not put into words - only that it was in absence. Nathaniel kept up a glib conversation, a stream of inane dribble that served only to distract her from properly analyzing the situation. She wanted to stop walking, wanted to ask him to take her home,concerned that she had suddenly come down with some sort of virus and she did not want him or the other guests of the Gala to be infected. Damn it all, she had spoken privately with Her Majesty this evening. She had to get home, to quarantine herself, and had to send word to watch for any of the symptoms that she was now suffering. It would not surprise her if it was some centuries-old illness that she had picked up from her stay in the Tower – who knew what diseases the past occupants of her cell had had. Integra was young and strong and had the will to fight almost any sickness, she knew, but the Queen could not boast the same and must NOT be put at risk.

Finally her irritation at Nathaniel and his incessant droning grew to such a height that she forced herself to sound her displeasure. "I must sit down, Lord Billings."

He shut up immediately and nodded, steering them towards a secluded sitting area designed for midnight trysts and secret lovers' rendezvous, his dark grin obscured by the shadows around them. As they reached the wooden bench he sharply sat her down in it, his eyes gleaming with an almost wolfish glee. She had seen that same look in someone else' eyes… and be damned if she could muster the mental power to recall from where. She attempted to rise and protest his rough handling of her, but her body suddenly refused to respond to her minds command to get back up again.

He laughed softly at her futile attempts, realizing them for what they were. He took off his tuxedo jacket and laid it gently upon one of the rose bushes, fishing around inside one of the inner breast pockets as he did so.

"W…what are you doing, Nathaniel…?" Integral demanded softly. She wanted to demand harshly, but her chest refused to let her have that much air. That annoyed her. She resolved to try harder next time.

He turned around to glance at her, one brow raised as if he were impressed that she still held the ability to allow so much emotion to color her voice, much less the muscle control and mental capacity to still speak.

He turned back to his jacket as if she had not spoke, but then turned with a dramatic flourish to face her, his handsome face contorted in some sort of deranged glee. He approached the bench she was on and her heart began a mad gallop as she saw something gleaming in his right hand. He reached out and placed the wicked looking dagger on the bench beside her before answering, quite civilly.

"Why, Integral my dear, I am murdering you."

Internally, she sighed in disappointment. This again? Can't they think of anything NEW? And… Nathaniel? What on earth would he have to gain by MY death? Walter really will have to start screening my escorts a little more thoroughly.

But she supposed she would go ahead and play his little game, therefore she made the prerequisite, and rather token, lunge-to-get-away in his general direction. Frustratingly, all she managed was to jerk slightly. She conjured a frown at the unresponsive nature of her body.

He laughed. "Magnesium Sulfate, with a dash of nifedipine for flavor," he answered her unspoken question amiably as he unbuttoned his cuffs and began to roll them up. "Muscle relaxers my dear. Your drinks were spiked. One dose is usually sufficient for 24-48 hours of near-euphoric paralysis, but three…" He tsk'ed.

Sigh.I knew I should not have had that third glass. Her breathing seemed very suddenly shallow and her head began to ache as he knelt before her, reaching out his hands to grab her feel and remove her shoes.

"Why…?" she demanded through gritted teeth, attempting to summon the vast reserves of willpower that had never failed her in the past. This was, quite frankly, pissing her off - and if Alucard ever got wind of this he would never let her live it down.

"Why?" He pretended shock that she should even have to ask that. "Because you are a disgrace to Crown and Country," he replied, as if it had been painfully obvious. "You may begin to feel slightly nauseous soon." She felt the urge to kick him in the face - mainly for his lack of originality - as he lifted her left foot and slid his hands under her dress and up her silken calf. All she could manage was a twitch of her big toe. Damn.

"You have disgraced your father's good name," he continued. "You cavort with undead demons, and have even allowed your pet,"he spat the word, "to corrupt an innocent police girl." His eyes locked arrogantly with hers as his hand traveled that shapely limb past her knee, laughing softly in derision of the fires of indignation that lit her glassy eyes as his fingers brushed the flesh of her inner thigh. Her mind screamed at her body to respond, NOW, to get this filth off of her. She closed her eyes and gatheredto herself one last attempt to move, to break free and to kill this arrogantbastard. "Instead of having her destroyed like the mongrel she is, you put her under your employ," he continued as if oblivious to her apoplectic rage. "You are weak, Miss Hellsing, and weakness cannot be tolerated. You blood shall be put to better purposes than flowing in your useless veins."

"So you... condemn me for... trafficking with demons... yet you intend to... do the same?" She snorted as his eyes narrowed. Good, she had guessed his scheme correctly."Hypocrite," she spat in the coldest and most demeaning tone that she could muster. "You sicken me."

Since her muscle response had decided to take a brief vacation, she decided to bite the damned bullet and summon Alucard. She tried to call out to him silently as she did in her sleep, knowing the fate to which she was condemning herself as he came to her rescue - she would just forbid him from ever mentioning this in the future. Yeah... like that has ever worked before.

Astonishingly however her brain refused to function properly... It was then that she realized what it was that she had been NOT feeling: the archaic and mystical connection to her monster that had been formed from the first moment he had tasted of her blood all those long years ago.

Her eyes grew large and she swallowed. She then threw an accusatory glare at her captor who was still fishing around under her skirts. "What…? ...my mind…?"

Nathaniel chuckled as he finally found his target and gently removed the .22 from her garter. He threw it towards the rose bushes and rocked back on his heels. "Those muscle relaxers were made especially for this moment," he explained as he stood now and leaned low over her as he repositioned her on the bench. "They ALSO contain a substance that was experimented with in Russia during the 1930s. It was supposed to inhibit psychic impulses. Telepathic impulses," he paused, significantly, so that his meaning would not be lost.

Oh bloody hell.

but wait... there's more...