When she first spotted him, he was simply standing in a crowd, leaning on a cane, smiling at some private joke as the crowd swirled around him. Nobody so much as looked his way, nobody even really seemed to realize he was there. Which was a little hard with his bright red striped shirt and funny hat.
Then, a person passed before her eyes, and he was gone.
Her eyebrows rose ever so slightly, and she took a deep breath. The wild mix of the spices of an Instanbul Marketplace fill her nose, and she lets out her breath softly.
Maybe she is seeing things. Because no man dressed that oddly could disappear without a trace.
So, with a shrug, she turns back to staring at Hagia Sophia, a one time mosque, and now a museum. Which meant that there was a treasure in their that she was going to steal.
A small smirk curved her lips, and the crowd parted again, for a single moment, revealing a red-striped shirt.
Now that caught her attention.
How, in the space of a minute, had she managed to loose sight of him once more?
With a small growl at herself, she shoved it to the back of her mind, and focused on the newest heist.
After that however, it seems like she couldn't stop finding him.
Wherever a place was crowded, filled with shoppers, tourists, guides, and other things, he as well would be standing there, smiling quietly, leaning on his ever-present cane.
Each time she saw him, he would be missing yet another item. The bulky backpack, the binoculars, the scroll, the map-
Slowly it stripped down straight until it was just him, his cane, and his hat.
He would then (obviously) go out and but everything once more, only to once again scatter it to the four winds.
She never approached him however.
He never approached her. Their eyes never connected, they gave no sign of the other even existing.
She would hide in the darkness, in her red trenchcoat, and he would hide in crowds, in a bright red striped shirt.
Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she thought those giant dorky glasses were just the slightest bit cute.
&.
There was a saying, somewhere, that recognition breeds familiarity. So when she saw him one day looking slightly panicked as he stumbled after a bunch of teenage hooligans who were waving his walking stick around, she felt the need to step in. (It had nothing to do with the fact that she had been wondering if he was actually a spy sent to keep track of him)
Tranquilizer guns were silent and clean. The teenagers had no sooner entered a slightly less crowded place, then they were unconscious.
(There were five different tranquilizers she could have used, each which would've left them with less of a headache and urge to throw up, but she told herself that it was simply because she didn't have time to change it. Never mind the fact that all five of them were closer to hand.)
She had no sooner kicked the last unconscious body out of sight when he came around the corner, his stupid(adorable) hat flopping over into his eyes, obscuring his glasses. When he had shoved it out of his eyes, she smiled at him, hand outstretched with the cane in one hand.
He smiled back, innocently and sunnily, took back the staff, and thanked her. Then, a slightly puzzled look came to his eyes, before it abruptly cleared.
If she didn't know any better, she could've sworn he tipped his hat to her in respect as he nodded respectively, once again thanking her.
She simply shrugged, mentioning that it wasn't nice to steal a cripple's cane.
He surprised her when he said simply that he wasn't actually a cripple, and that it was a special walking stick. He smiled as he gave her his name, then, he stepped out into the crowds, and was lost in mere seconds.
Before she could do her special, amazing vanishing act.
She wondered if the name given was actually his name.
&.
When she saw him again, it was night time. Small paper lanterns lit the streets, as people dressed in fancy yukatas slowly trod down the streets. Children laughed as they carried their own tiny lanterns, chasing each other up and down the street.
It was at this festival, among the stalls and booths, as she grinned to herself about the small golden statue and the famous katana that she had tucked into her hidden possession, that she saw him once more.
He was still wearing that tacky clothing, and it looked like he had once again managed to loose everything. In-between the cracks in the row of the booths, she could see a pair of binoculars, mournfully forgotten about.
She contemplated on returning it, but it was too late.
The crowd surged, swirled together, and when they parted the man was gone, leaving behind his binoculars. She contemplated for a few seconds about picking them up, but her partners call for her, and she leaves.
&.
She is wearing her yellow dress, red high heels, and, as always, red trench coat and is in the middle of running away from those stupid ACME agents when she sees him next.
He's standing next to a man feeding pigeons, and he once again has miraculously regained all of his traveling gear. The large, bulky green backpack, the scroll, the binoculars- most importantly was the walking stick and hat. Those two were the only things he never lost.
Their eyes connected in the crowd. He smiled and waved.
Suddenly her heart felt a lot less heavy, and she nodded back, the unanswered question that had once upon a time hovering in the back of her mind over whether or not he was an agent to hunt her down unexpectedly answered.
He was simply a traveler.
She wants to slow down, wants to talk to him, but doesn't have the time.
Oh well, they would meet again, of that she had no doubt.
&.
Nearly three months later, a hundred different countries, and countless heists later, she is beginning to worry.
She had only spotted him intermittently, but it was as if he hadn't been appearing. Of course he had never appeared in all the places she had gone too, but by now she expected to of found him several times.
As she shoved the thought out of her mind, another thought came unbidden.
Was he really there? Was he just simply a figment of her imagination?
Was he a ghost doomed to wander the world, or was he a real person that just so happened to have a similar mind to hers and traveled to the same areas?
Would she ever know? She had never once had a long conversation with him.
&.
One month after her wondering about whether he would ever show up again, she stood in the crowded, seeming, packed Times Square. She wasn't looking around for him, her mind caught in the hope to steal the newest statue that was being put on display.
That's when she spotted him in the corner of her eye.
He was limping ever so slightly, his walking stick now really a cane, but the stupidly adorable floppy hat and the too big glasses were all their, as well as his striped shirt.
This time, instead of moving on, she moved in.
He looked up, and happy surprise was quite clearly etched on his face. She sped up, hand reaching out to grab him by the hand.
Flesh connected with flesh.
He looked genuinely confused by the sudden hand grabbing, and he looked down at her, head tilting.
"Is something the matter?"
"Found you Waldo."
a/n: highly experimental as you can see :D Hope you enjoyed!