Author's Note: The streets are probably wrong, I just took names of Paris' streets and put them together. And if you happen to be French and reading this, I am so sorry I have butchered your language.

Rumours were flying about Paris, spreading the news about the famous English assassin. Not a soul knew what the killer looked like, not even the gossiping noble women. They didn't even know the gender! A string of deaths occurred, all royal, and according to the police, there was nothing to go on. No hair left behind, no shoeprints, no bullet to match to a gun, not even any fingerprints carelessly smeared on a vase. It was a mystery that no policeman in Paris could ever hope to solve.

This lead the city's government to call for their best private detective. Monsieur Axel Bontecou. He was the detective – there was no other to go to if you wanted something done. He was recognized in all of France, and most of Europe, certainly a renowned name around the continent. Axel was known for his…unique alignment with the side of good, the side of justice. Although, some of the times his methods were unpractical, and there was an extensive amount of women that would've loved to get even with him, the Paris Police had no other choice but to recruit the famed inspector.

And there that famed inspector was, leaning on the lamppost on the corner of Boulevard Carnot and Rue Gabriel Lamé and letting the winter's downpour of rain wash over him and soak him to the bone. Axel was silently mulling over what the police chief had told him, allowing the gears of his mind work and turn, willing raw information into an idea, a suspect even.

But, alas, he was distracted. Every other minute or so, his eyes wandered to the opposite side of the street, where a petite woman sat under a covered table. The rain seemed to dodge her, not wanting to wet her at all. Her hands were delicately folded onto her lap, and every so often would glide to the table and pick at a warm croissant. There were people walking by her, for it was a busy sidewalk. The men that strode by would always walk a little slower, lessen their pace, when they noticed the woman's looks. To these men, this woman gave a seductive smile. The men would play it off – of course – they would say to their wives that they smelled the café's pastries, for they knew that their wives would have their heads if they knew what they truly saw. Still, the woman gave them those small, lustful smiles and a meaningful glint of her eye, most likely just to tease. It was obvious she knew exactly how to entice men, and it was working well – even on Monsieur Axel Bontecou.

The inspector shook his head as he attempted to retrieve his mind and wheel it back onto the subject of the case that he had accepted. Axel knew that he was on the side of good, on the law's side, on morality's side. And there couldn't have been anyone, anywhere, that could make him change. He was a famous man, many thought of him as great and having influence over anyone – but that was not so. He was his own man, a private investigator just for that reason. He would never work with anyone, save his partner, a fellow advocate of the law whose mind was full of medical prowess, a surgeon was he. Axel was usually hired by the rich or the nobles of the country, he was hired for those nasty cases that were best kept as secrets, away from the prying eyes of the Parisian citizens.

Though he tried hard to think of all this information, he still thought of the beautiful woman across the way. Before he knew it, his legs were leading him to the small café, and his lips were curling up into a smirk. "Bonsoir, mademoiselle. Comment-allez vous?"

The girl smiled and looked straight into Axel's eyes. "Oh, you must excuse me, dear sir, but I have not mastered my French…" her voice has a distinct English accent.

The inspector grinned, and noticed the oceanic blue eyes of the woman. Such eyes he had never seen before. "Do not worry, ma Cherie, I can speak English if it is for you."

Instantly the woman raised an eyebrow, "Well, I am guessing you must be an educated man, Monsieur…?"

He bowed and took her closest gloved hand, then planted a kiss on its back. "Monsieur Axel Bontecou, detective."

"My, my, my, I did not know that I was in the presence of such a famous man…" her cheeks showed the faintest signs of a maidenly blush.

Axel chuckled, "Oh, ma Cherie, the fame is nothing! Excuse me, but, what are you called?" he looked up at her from his lowered position, a bemused expression painted over his face.

The girl's smile faltered for a fraction of a second, "You're speaking to Lady Huntington of Windsor."

The inspector stood and gave her a deep nod, "A lady? En mon presence? C'est très magnifique! May I have your first name, Lady Huntington?"

"Oh, my dear detective," she said sweetly, "that wouldn't be proper! You've only just met me."

He smiled at her, "I am sorry, you are correct, milady."

Lady Huntington held her umbrella tightly, "I should be on my way now, Monsieur Bontecou. Dark cities aren't suit for young ladies…" She turned away and walked down the cobblestone bath towards Paris' Notre Dame, her Victorian-style dress swishing around. The rouge of the skirt and matching parasol set off her skin tone, making her look vulnerable and at the same time attractive. She stood erect and confident, walking in a slow, but steady gait, most likely headed to the Grand, a large hotel in Paris' center.

The inspector's acidic green eyes followed after her, silently pleading to know more about the Lady Huntington of Windsor.

xxx

That evening, another mysterious murder had occurred, different, but a murder nonetheless. The victim had been a proffeseur at le Universite de Paris, as well as a famous scientist, specializing in the workings of the human heart and deadly substances. There seemed to be no reason why one would want to kill the man, he had done no wrong to anyone. This confused the detective.

Axel had been standing in Professeur Ansem Ethelstan's room, on top floor of the educator's wing of le Université. When he arrived at the scene of the crime, he instantly ushered the policemen out, urging them to leave things untouched and exit the room, for it was all evidence. The inspector stepped towards the bed, where the body of the professeur was tucked in.

The body was stiff, almost rock hard. Ansem's skin was a dull grey, reminding Axel of the clouds earlier that day. Death was certainly in his cheeks, for no trace of living was left. No pulse. No shaky breaths. Nothing that could signal the man's life.

He lightly touched Ansem's neck, expecting to see any sign of a lethal injection. He found none. Axel spun on his heels and surveyed the room for the umpteenth time, straining to find something that he had not noticed before. Everything looked as it seemed, none of the furniture seemed out of place, no tinkets strewn about – nothing to signify any struggle.

But the window was open, why had he not noticed that prior to inspecting the body? Was it possible that a deadly gas was used?

The detective looked over the room carefully, and this time, he overturned the bedcovers that wrapped the body so comfortably. The corpse didn't look different from any other dead body he had seen, minus the lacerations and burns on the victim's chest – who would have done such a thing? Axel reached for his notepad and pencil, kept so close in his breast pocket. He wrote all that he saw on the carcass, Axel even sketched a small picture quickly.

Once done with his keen observations, Detective Axel stepped towards the late proffeseur's desk. A desk that was coated with loose papers, small notes, and thick books – undoubtedly filled with more notes within the margins. Axel allowed his hands to roam through all the items atop the desk, checking for anything that was missing, something that could've been stolen.

Axel spent the remaining hours of daylight carefully reading the late proffeseur's various notes, papers, and speeches – searching for any one clue that might have told him why the famous researcher had been murdered. He rushed through said notes, scanning quickly, but thoroughly, attempting to absorb all information the sheets contained. Most of the writing was in a complicated shorthand – but thankfully one that Axel knew. The papers were filled with information exclusively about the Heart – the light in people, the darkness that everyone had within them (minus a select few), and the balance between good and evil.

Is this…. Is this information that one would kill over?

He hadn't even gone through half the notes when the sun began to set and he began to tire. His eyelids seemed harder to open every time that he blinked, his limbs became heavier and increasingly difficult to move, and his head, oh, his head how it ached and throbbed as if there was a hammer hitting him head-on.

Silently, the detective gathered his coat and his hat. With an exasperated sigh, he exited the room and nodded at the police chief – signifying that he and his men could now take all the evidence into examination and transport the proffeseur's body, alerting the family and giving him a proper burial.

What the police chief did not know was that Inspector Axel Bontecou had taken the very most important papers of the notes to study them longer, more extensively, and in his own home. Of course, his partner would help him out profusely.

He stepped into the carriage and coughed loudly, letting his driver know that he was ready to return to his comfortable home. Axel settled back and leaned his head against the plush, dark red cushion of the seat and headrest. He sighed and relaxed, allowing the clackclackclacking of the horses' hooves lull him to sleep.

That is, until a small, ladylike cough jolted him awake.

Axel's eyes instantly shot open, his body became suddenly erect, and he was more than aware of his surroundings. His gaze became focused on the seats before him, and there, in front of his eyes, sat a woman in a tight-fitting midnight blue evening gown. Her shoulders were visible and her sleeves stretched down to her wrists. Lace embroidered the collar, adding such beautiful detail to the dress. The corset was obviously tight around her waist, but she smiled either way. The down grew and spread out from her middle, cascading down widely and beautifully, leaving much to wander about her body.

"Bonsoir, Monsieur Bontecou…"

"Lady Huntington?" Axel inquired, slightly confused but certainly glad to see her face.

She let her smile turn into a frown as she reached out her hand to lay it on his own, "How are you tonight, Monsieur? You look overworked…" Her eyes were filled with genuine worry.

"Oui, Mademoiselle…"

Lady Huntington moved and sat next to the detective. She placed her hands on his shoulders, beginning to knead her thin fingers into his back, resulting in small moans escaping the inspector's lips, "Lady Huntington… I did not realize that you were skilled with your hands…"

She let out a pealing laugh, "Oh, Monsieur, there are many things that I am skilled in…"

As much as Axel's mind struggled to stop his body from reacting to such small, and most likely meaningless words, it couldn't. He shifted his body and was met with an almost seductive gaze. Her eyelids were half closed, and she smiled, scooting closer to the inspector. She leaned forward, putting her hands onto Axel's chest. Her fingernails dug through his clothes and into his flesh, making the detective groan.

She whispered: "You are so very tense, Inspector…"

A switched had flipped, and everything altered between the two. In less than a fraction of a second, the atmosphere shifted from silent and unbearable to heated and full of desire. With lips against lips, chest against chest, they kissed quietly – only the sounds of the whinnying horses and ruffling clothes could be heard. Axel's hand caressed Lady Huntington's face lovingly while his other arm was wrapped around her small waist.

Though the inspector was impossibly immersed in the kiss between him and Lady Huntington – she was thinking of much different things. Her hand reached towards the folds of her skirt and she pulled out a dagger, golden and bright, with jewels adorning it's hilt.

She swiped it gently across the bare neck before her, especially careful not to slice anything. Lady Huntington held it against the pale throat that trembled to unnoticeably, "Yell, and I'll slit your throat, detective."

Axel inhaled cautiously and gave a slight nod, "You're the assassin then?"

She hissed and pressed the dagger to his skin, "I said no such thing.'

"Then? What's all this for?" He raised an eyebrow.

Her body tilted forward and she planted a kiss on his temple, "You know too much," with that, she began to drag the blade across Axel's pale neck, a thin line of blood seeping out.

"Axel? Est-ce votre voiture?" A voice shouted from out in the street. Neither Lady Huntington nor Inspector Axel noticed the buggy's stop.

She stood and pulled back her dagger, wiping it on a handkerchief that she pulled out of her bosom. Lady Huntington winked, whispered that this wasn't over, and blew a kiss towards Axel, proceeding to rush out of the side of the carriage opposite the shouting. She whistled loudly and off hopped an accomplice from the roof of the small buddy. They held each other's hands tightly as they dashed away into the dark and damp Paris streets.

"Axel?" That same voice called again, closer, and finally the man yelling opened the door, "Axel! Pourquoi n'avez-vous pas – qu'est-il arrive à ton cou? Your neck! Ça saigne! Bleeding!" It was Demyx's screeching voice – his best friend, the American born surgeon. Faster than Axel could blink, Demyx was mending the wound and calling for the butler. "What happened to you, Ax?"

Axel shook his head, had he been…outsmarted? Rendered incapable of lifting a finger? Because of a woman?

xxx;;

So. Another fic, when I haven't even updated the other ones.

Don't kill me. IT'S THE PLOT BUNNIES I SWEAR.

I am almost done with the next chapter for both of the other fics –

I just had to post this one already.

Review? That makes me update much faster.

Loveyouguys.

p.s. this is an akuroku fanfic.