TheGlassCannon, this chapter's for you.

I do not own Hellsing.

Please read, review, and enjoy! : )

"You've lost more weight." Head lowered while tucking in her shirt, Amelia was able to keep her grimace out of sight. She didn't need a doctor or his expensive scale to tell her that. Over the past four weeks she had watched her figure become increasingly gaunt, her clothing loosening in places where it typically hugged her, gentle curves of bone gradually protruding under a thin layer of skin.

"Is the food not to your liking?" She glanced up at the sincerity in Doc's voice.

"The food is fine." It was better than anything she had expected to be served during her captivity, but good food was wasted on a nonexistent appetite. This morning she had eaten half of her meal before setting it aside for collection. She needed the food, she was aware of that; yet it always seemed like too much, either bland or too strongly seasoned. Every day that she refused a serving, by evening, she felt ill, her stomach protesting audibly as she'd lie stiff in bed. Her head spun when she rose—off the mattress, occasionally out of a seat—until she was sure it might topple off her shoulders if she did not plant her feet and brace herself against something solid. Had the beverages tasted any better, had they done more to assuage her appetite, it would have supported her initial theory that she was beginning to crave blood. However, the drinks remained almost unpalatable, and she only felt sicker after partaking in them with her meager helpings.

Doc sighed as she finished adjusting her belt, and she mentally steeled herself for what she imagined would be a thorough line of questioning.

"And if 'the food is fine,' then what is the issue, Miss Harker? I've given you time, privacy, and more variety than anyone else is given privilege to, yet you continue to eat less each week. Why do you continue this behavior?"

"I'm not hungry." She leaned over to grab one of her shoes. It was better to be honest, but not overshare. Arguing ignorance was easier than trying to worm one's way out of a captured lie. "Can you blame me?"

"You must eat." Her shoulders bunched into a shrug, and she adjusted her socks around her ankles. "Do not dismiss that which has such a large impact on your health," her physician chided, as though she were a child refusing to eat the vegetables on her plate. Clearly, he did not appreciate her attitude.

For a brief moment, Amelia shut her eyes, feeling a spike in the tension that had been building in her head since she woke. She hadn't eaten breakfast yet.

Finished with both shoes, she straightened back up and blinked away the spots in her vision, crossing her arms tightly and saying nothing so that Doc might not notice her dizzy spell.

"Miss Harker." Doc stepped forwards when she finally she looked up at him, his hand wrapping around her shoulder, and she flinched at the contact. "I can see that you are not well and I know all of this is difficult for you. But if you continue on this course, your condition will only deteriorate. Let me remind you: despite the changes you have undergone, you are not a full-blooded vampire." It was so relieving to hear that. "You cannot be sustained on blood alone—your body requires nutrients, vitamins, human food to function."

I want to eat, I really do… She worked the muscles in her shoulder, hoping he would take the hint and remove his hand. Instead, he readjusted and slid his hand to her back, guiding her over to the folding chair by his desk. When she was seated he moved his chair out from behind the desk and in front of her, his too-long legs nearly knocking into hers as he sat. Hunching forward so that his elbows could rest on his knees, he caught her tired gaze.

"Amelia." She stopped breathing at the sound of her name, Doc's voice barely audible over the hum of the pipes overhead. The Lieutenant was still singing softly to herself by the doors, quiet enough not to be a nuisance, but just off-tempo—multi-tasking.

"We are picking up the pace again. Work is progressing smoothly and the Major has seen fit to finalize half of the schedule. I would prefer you to be in good health so that you may walk beside us, rather than be dragged behind." She dug her fingers into the fabric around her ribs, shrinking further in her chair as her joints tingled from the tension. "And you will suffer, if you insist upon letting your health go. I can't promise you respite or patience after today. They're past the point of accommodating for a single person, no matter who it is." His mouth perked up in a humorless smile. "We all have a job to do... Believe me when I say that your cooperation will lead to the best outcome—"

But she was already suffering. He pointed that out himself. And I don't want to walk beside anyone here, let alone be in the same room, the same country… You can run for all I care, "Doctor." Not my job, not my work—

A pointed tap on her knee. "Miss Harker."

Her vision was a little fuzzy; she couldn't recall how long she had been staring at the man. Even after the realization, it was several more seconds before she forced herself to blink.

"I'm listening," she managed.

"I need you to focus, Amelia. I have a question for you." After days of disputing everyone's title for her, she had eventually grown weary and given up on answering to anything else. Now that her name was in Doc's mouth, she regretted ever fighting for it. It was one thing to be known by family or friend, but he was neither one, and his journey to understanding her was forged through violation, not charity.

She blinked again, vision clearing as she gave her attention to the man sitting opposite her. None of you deserve to use my name. She worked the tip of her tongue between her teeth and bit down.

"What can we do to make you eat?"

Make me? One way or another, she was going to eat all of her food. The same way they had made certain she consumed her drinks in the first weeks, Doc was warning her: you eat on your own or you are assisted.

Without warning, her thoughts shut off like a television screen. How? How? How? The question inhabited an empty space in her head, ringing without answer. Worried that she might be scrutinized for her prolonged silence, she tried to scrape together an adequate response.

"I… I'm eating…" She cleared her throat. "Is there something you can give me? I mean…medicine? To make me hungry. Or…something to make me less anxious?"

"No, no drugs," said Doc, and she ducked her head. "Do not misunderstand, Miss Harker, there are many substances at my disposal, but I don't think they will work for you."

"What does that mean?" She bristled, indignant, ignoring the fact that he had reverted to the misnomer. The painful throb in her head only fueled her emotions, passing over the insignificant irritation on its way to rouse anger. These past several days had been quiet and uneventful, not giving her many opportunities to interact with anyone as the effects of her fasting became more prominent. Abruptly thrust back into conversation with unwanted visitors and repetitive, scheduled meetings, she now felt her tolerance for such activities stretched thin.

Taking his weight off one elbow, Doc opened his hand before her. A couple of seconds passed before she recognized the gesture. Unclenching her fists hurt, and when she gave one to him it was with the same enthusiasm that she offered her limbs for blood samples.

"The non-human body works in mysterious ways." Manipulating her hand, he looked at her palm before turning it towards the floor. "Everything appears normal. Skeleton, bone density, dermal layer, circulatory system," he traced a vein on the back of her hand. "Do you agree?"

Amelia nodded, wondering if she could take her hand back.

"And it functions well? You can bend your fingers, thumb, and wrist, squeeze my hand with varying amounts of strength…" Hands held palm-to-palm, he bent his wrist, letting his fingers point downwards so that hers tipped up.

"Yes," she mumbled.

"And what if we introduce something foreign to the system? A stimulus? How do we tolerate change?" His other hand moved fast, and in a second she was bleeding, a narrow cut sliced from her thumb to wrist, just shy of her newly tailored sleeve. Reflexively, she jumped to her feet and pulled her hand away, shock replacing anger as she cradled it towards her chest.

"Watch what happens, Miss Harker. Have you ever sat and watched?" Doc hissed, standing with her. The blade of his surgical knife gleamed with a fine coat of red, but he did not raise it again. She turned a little, keeping the injured part of her person as far away from the man as she could, her breaths coming a little heavier.

No. She avoided it the few times she had the opportunity to observe. It wasn't natural. It was disgusting and frightening. And she didn't want anything to do with it. Maybe this is why I can't summon the shadows…

"Regeneration. Healing. Think of the bodily processes at work." Drops of blood crept over her skin like sweat, resisting gravity to climb back into the open wound. She did not will the broken tissue to mend itself or the red liquid to return to her damaged vein. In the same way cuts and bruises healed without her consent or attention while growing up, it just happened. In less than a minute the skin was closed, all traces of blood gone, the pain only a memory. Not even a scar to remind her of the doctor's transgression.

The sharp clack of his instrument hitting the desk made her jump.

"The rate at which all of this occurs is remarkable. This," he snatched her hand and she bumped into her chair, "is how your body responds to stimuli." His thumb brushed over the unblemished skin, as if he needed her to witness to make his point.

"When I introduced barbital into your system, your body responded similarly. The physiological, the chemical responses occur so rapidly that it might as well be in and out of your system in the same breath. You'll feel the effects, but unless it's a continuous feed it's as good as worthless." Doc's eyes were bright, engrossed in his subject of interest.

A jolt of dread rushed through Amelia. Is this what it was like for Mina? Obsessed over, experimented on until… The dread settled in her chest. She didn't know how her grandmother's story ended; whether she was dead or alive. Searching her memories, she could only vaguely recall her being referred to in a negative context… "No longer useful?" Or was it that her body was "at its limit?"

"You may remember the occasion when you woke up unexpectedly in the examination room. I anticipated the drugs wearing off in thirty minutes, but you surprised me! I did not think your body would be capable of such a feat. At least, not so soon!" he chuckled. "We haven't tested contagions yet, but I have a feeling you will impress me in this category as well."

Amelia's mouth fell open, lower lip trembling. With her free hand she reached out for the desk, giving it some of her weight as she leaned. Doc was standing too close, pushing her back into the desk, into the chair. She twisted her head, searching for the Lieutenant, who had not moved from her station by the doors. Leaning against the wall with the rifle held loosely across her body, she watched with a light frown, her mouth shut. If her desperate look did nothing to the woman, then she could expect no help from her.

"Doctor." There was a slight tremor in her voice as she turned back to the overbearing physician. "I understand now."

That you've attempted to drug me, I think, multiple times to test this idea of yours. Barbital. The name was familiar, but meant nothing to her.

"Your work is important." A pause. "I should take care… Thank you for explaining." Leaning a little further against the desk, she brought her other hand around and began to ease his fingers from her. The contact drew attention to the fact that he was still rubbing her hand, and he blinked as though unaware of himself. He released her and took a step away, motioned to the chair behind her.

"Sit."

He did the same, the energy dissipating around him as he shut the lid on his emotions, his shoulders slouching, lips turning downwards. When she ventured a glance at his eyes, Amelia saw that the fire had burned out.

"I will do my best to eat everything you offer… You see that this is difficult for me… If medicine is not an option, maybe, there is something else that can help?" She shuffled in her seat, her eyes resting on the back of her hands as she pressed her knees together.

"Are you asking?"

"No! No," she whispered, gripping her knees. "Well, yes, sort of… Could I… I think it will help me eat, if I have a change of scenery. I spend almost all of my time in here, and I don't think it's—" Suddenly realizing what she was about to say and how it would come across, she tried to go about it differently. "I-I think the situation can be improved. I'll eat more if I am out of the lab, so my health will improve, and then that'll be less work for everyone, so it'd be an improvement for everyone." Her anxiety was limiting her vocabulary.

Doc gave a small hum, leaning forwards in his chair.

"There are a number of unused offices on the base. I suppose it wouldn't be much trouble to allow you to eat in any one of them."

That's not good enough.

"Actually," she rubbed her knees, "I was thinking—hoping, really—that I might be able to eat outside." Her volume started to die towards the end of the sentence, and now she refused to look him in the eye. At least she hadn't phrased it as a question. "Just once a day, even. That's all." It wasn't much to ask. It really wasn't. She wanted to taste, to smell, to feel, to breathe fresh air again. Not this chemical atmosphere that reeked of disinfectant and something bodily and unripe underneath.

I want to remind myself that there's a world out there. I want to know that it still exists; that there's something out there waiting for me. Her thoughts took a dark turn. There is something out there waiting for me… No, I'm not sure that he's waiting. She grit her teeth against the throb in her head.

"I don't think I can support this request. Given what happened the last time—"

"It won't be the same! Just to eat—I'll eat while I'm outside—less than thirty minutes." The words rushed out. "I won't go anywhere else, I won't do anything else. I'll always be accompanied so there won't be any trouble. I swear, I won't leave your side. Please?" Fingers interlaced atop her legs, she bowed her head as though imploring a higher power.

The white noise of the lab returned to the forefront; the Lieutenant was still trying to eavesdrop. It remained long enough for the hope in her chest to begin fading. She began straightening her posture, losing some of the tension in the disappointment, and noticed Doc looking at her, his hand covering his mouth in a contemplative arrangement.

"Once a day," he began, mouth still partially obstructed, "if time allows, you will be taken outside to eat one of your meals. In exchange for this allowance, you will eat all of your meals without protest, every single day of the week." Beneath her shirt, Amelia felt goosebumps raise along her arms as he annunciated the last six words. "Do we have a deal, Miss Harker?"

"Yes," she nodded, resisting the urge to make a hasty retreat with her small victory. But as luck would have it, Doc seemed to be finished with her.

"Good. Go eat your breakfast." He tilted his head in the direction of her room.

She stuttered a thanks and stood a little too quickly, so that she had to set her hand against the desk for a moment. Blanching, she pursed her lips and departed for the privacy of her room, aware of the eyes following her across the lab.

Once Amelia was out of sight, Doc shot a look at the lab's other female occupant, who shamelessly blushed and eased into a low melody, looking everywhere but at him.

He dropped his hand from over his mouth and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, tasting blood. His gaze fell over the folding chair before blinking back towards the sleeping accommodation where the young woman had disappeared.

The frown still set in his features, he picked up a pen from his desk and scribbled on a loose sheet of paper. He huffed and underlined the writing. Underlined it again. Another glance towards Amelia's room. After one more swipe of the pen, he set it down. Sucking on his bloody lip, he settled back and stared at the empty chair across from him.

"Damn."