Disclaimer: Bayonetta property of Platinum Games/Sega, blahblahblah. Besides, if I owned the fandom, this pairing would absolutely be canon. Canon with confirmation, not canon vaguely implied. Lyrics property of The Script: The Man Who Can't Be Moved. Rating for… expletives. You know Luka.

Author's Note: So here I thought I was done with fanfiction forever when I suddenly came up with this thing. I blame RP and my really loud Luka muse. Most everything that dwells with backstory is speculation and headcanon so drop me a line if ever I mess up somewhere.

The Man That Can't Be Moved

People talk about the guy

Who's waiting on a girl.

There are no holes in his shoes

But a big hole in his world…

Vigrid was a town where everything and nothing happened all at once. People bustled along the streets, walking past places and others who meant nothing to them. This was a town where Luka was but one of a thousand people passing through it that day. In the myriad of intellectuals and libraries, estuaries of intellect and learning this town had to offer, he sought for none of that today. Today, his goal was simple: to return to a particular corner near the city square. There were thousands of corners in this town of byways and alleys but this one held special significance to him.

People passed that particular corner every day, not knowing of what had sparked there years ago. Most barely even paid attention to it. Of course, there were only a precious few who knew the real truth, who knew of the inter planar battles between witch and angel, particularly the one that had occurred there. Of course, they had seen signs of it: pots suddenly bursting for no reason as if fired upon by an invisible gunman, dust suddenly kicking up, grass being sliced and flying through the air. The citizenry had come to accept it over the years. Twenty years was a good long time to get used to something and most of them had learned to be extra careful during their daily walks. It struck the journalist as funny, the way they turned a blind eye to these things and went on in their daily lives. Of course, he knew better but once upon a time, he was as blind as they were. He laughed as he walked, remembering his earlier years, his fledgeling naivety coupled with a thirst for misguided revenge. Ah, if one could turn back time, he would do most anything in his power to make amends for the hounding and badgering Bayonetta suffered at his hands. But alas, this was not the time for apologies. He was almost there

Luka hadn't been back here in years but he knew the way back by heart. It was almost as if instinct itself led his feet; turn here, past that bookstore, cross this street and a left, then go right across the street from that coffee shop. His walk was purposeful, his stride almost rushed as he brushed past scholars, civilians without so much as a by your leave. There. Right there. Sure, they'd changed the streetlight over the years and yes, the café that was right there at that corner had been refurbished but this was it. This was the very street, the very corner he had been looking for. The journalist stood there amongst the crowd, seemingly lost in the sea of people who crossed and commuted every day. Cars passed him in the street and once even, a call of "Watch where you're going, asshole!" when he got a little careless in his distracted wanderings.

There was a method to his madness, however, a reason for his little pilgrimage. After his years of hounding and chasing, stalking and research, Luka Redgrave Journalist Extraordinaire had simply lost it. No, far specifically, Luka had lost her. Despite the entire mess with Jubileus and the Ithavol group, the two had decided to carry on as they did before it; he chased her to the corners of the earth as he promised he'd do and every now and then she'd let herself be caught to even up the score. He'd considered Bayonetta rather liked the attention and she considered he rather liked the chase.

But where she was now, he wasn't certain. It had been what, a good three years now since he last caught sight of her? He'd lost count. No matter how many leads he tried to pick up (Enzo would be riddled with bugs by now if he so chose.) all of them seemed to lead to a dead end so here he was. He once considered she was busy with her little fights, her little tirades with the celestial hosts but when did that ever stop him? No, it wasn't her. It was him. Perhaps he was loosing his touch. Perhaps his target had become far more elusive than he was used to. It was time to up the playing field a little.

He'd figured it was better to start from the beginning. After all, when one lost something, it was better to retrace one's steps. This was the corner where it all began, that game of cat and mouse. He could remember that day clearly as if it was only yesterday. That day however, was not a bright and pleasant as this one was and there were far less people but being here was enough to send his thoughts right back. Luka couldn't help but smile at the memory as he placed a hand upon the familiar wooden door with its glass panels and brass knob. Even the turn of the metal in his gloved hand held the same weight. Indeed, it was almost as if time had stopped for this little coffee house while the rest of the world turned. Its interior was the same burnished wood panes and polished furniture.

The journalist made his way to a seat tucked into the corner, away from the rest of the patrons who seemed lost in their own conversations and meanderings. A single hand gesture brought a waitress over and after an order for coffee (Black. No sugar), Luka turned his attention back outside the window. He could almost see it now, almost hear and smell the rain that fell that night the first time he saw her in the flesh.

-TBC-

Updates will come when they come.
Yes, the style will get better once I manage to polish up my writing.
I might move this to a Bayo/Luka slant once I get stuff out of the way, who knows.
Liked it? Loved it? Needs work? You know where the comment box comes out of.