Do you…Do you truly believe in second chances?
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Time was never straight forward with Amon. It was always more of an enigmatic game of hopscotch, where you didn't know where the rock would drop next.
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The rain had created a silver shield around them. Her own tears sparkled like diamonds against slate.
"Robin." His voice was cold, colder than she had ever heard it, colder than she ever wanted to hear it.
"Amon," her voice held the weight of a thousand nights of pain.
It was ironic that he, her protector, should cause her this much pain. He should instead be shielding her, wiping away her tears, defending her from the world that carried so much taint. But no, he had contradicted his role and torn open the doors of their shelter himself. And in that instant, in that one one-thousandth of a second, time had held its breath, the world had halted in its revolution and Robin shed another tear.
A gloved hand wiped it away. "Tears are for sadness." He replied in a chilled tone to her silent question.
"And what of regret?"
---
All he had really needed was someone who could trust him, undoubtedly, unflinchingly, unquestioningly. And he got exactly what he needed, wrapped in a fifteen-year-old genome project called Robin.
The brain child of Todou had been given flesh and blood, taken breath. Clear green eyes that stared into you rather than at you. Her demure exterior hiding an unwavering will; her voice that sung hidden melodies in every syllable.
Now, she was gone. Lost to him forevermore. He could never hold her again, touch her, breathe her air. He had lost something as precious as a light in a tunnel of darkness. He had fallen from where the breeze tickled and lulled him, to where the winds were tumult and howled against him. His light, his air, his Robin.
---
The rain had drenched them both, her heavy dress now dragging along the floor. Pushing her into the bathroom with a t-shirt and pants, he waited until the door was safely closed before slumping against it. What was it that she truly wanted?
And what of regret?
And what of regret? What was she trying to communicate through those fathomless pits of green? What was it she wanted?
Was she mourning the loss of their teammates? The scar on his arm? Or did she grieve her arrival in Japan?
"Amon?" her voice, slightly muffled, was still as powerful as a siren's call.
Before he could register what he was doing, he had already answered, "Yes Robin?"
Her voice was small, almost unheard. "Thank you."
Amon leaned his head against the wood of the door. He was so close to touching, so close to holding… "You're welcome." But he must keep his distance, for her sake…and his.
---
But he couldn't keep his distance. He couldn't deny her call. A day in the rain with the fire witch had shattered everything he had carefully built.
That was when he knew, he couldn't protect her. He, who was deemed best for the job, was a failure. The world spun around him in a swirl of color and emotion, like an abstract painting on a wheel. But the realization stared him down, pinned him, drowned him. There was only one solution.
If Robin could not be protected from herself…then she must be "dealt with".
---
Her eyes filled with child-like awe as she surveyed the coffee table. It was set up like an elaborate imaginary tea party for the noblest friends. The only differences being the imagined sweets were real…better.
"Amon," She breathed.
He motioned for her to sit, barely containing his smile. She obeyed, picking up a small cup and daintily sipping. She turned and smiled at the enigmatic hunter. "Delicious."
He returned her smile, though a part of him screamed this was wrong. It was easily smothered. "Would you like more?"
"Please," she whispered, tentatively reaching for a curiously colored treat in the middle of the table.
After he refilled her cup, he sat back and watched through anxious eyes.
"Amon?" He tensed.
"Yes Robin?"
"Why aren't you eating?" She motioned at the table.
An easy enough question to which he prepared the answer before hand. "Not hungry."
She stared reproachfully at him over her steaming cup. He eased his face into something between guilty and apologetic, something he never had to do before he met Robin.
Somehow, when she demanded answers, he needed to give them to her. He couldn't lie to her, or he wouldn't sleep for weeks on end, consumed with guilt. Robin had adversely affected every aspect of his life. And…he didn't really mind.
She sipped again, not breaking her gaze. "Is…something wrong?"
A murmured 'nothing' seemed to appease her. "Do you want more?"
"Oh…yes please." Amon complied, while she watched, "This is my third cup…I usually don't drink this much tea…"
"I know." Of course he knew. Months of watching told him she preferred espresso, but the strong familiar taste of coffee would deter his purpose.
Robin peered out of the window of his apartment. "It's still raining." She commented dully.
Amon's chest constricted painfully. This is wrong!! This is wrong!! "Yes. Robin, do you like the rain?"
Her eyes widened fractionally, but she smiled sedately at him. Her mouthed opened to form a reply, but closed abruptly to frown.
Amon's heart skipped a beat.
"What's wrong?" he asked. A perverse question; he already knew what was wrong.
Robin convulsed and gasped as she collapsed with a small thud. "A-amon…" Her pale hands reached across the thin carpet to him.
Amon's heart seemed ready to burst. This is wrong. His hand hesitantly reached to comb through her blonde hair. "What's wrong Robin?" There was no need to ask. He knew what was happening, Orbo, green as her eyes, racing through her veins, destroying every blood cell.
She is a witch.
"Amon?" She smiled.
This was bound to happen.
"Amon!" She stood in front of him, shielding him.
Can't protect…
"Devil's child…"
Witches must be hunted.
"I'm just curious is all."
Dangerous…
Laughing on a park bench with Doujima.
She is a witch.
Sipping coffee at Harry's.
Can't protect…
Can't protect…
As logical as this was, he could not be soothed. His heart beat painfully against his chest.
"Amon…" her voice was a whisper.
"Robin." She smiled faintly, reaching for his hand. Then frowned.
"I…something…wrong…"
"What's wrong?"
Her eyes flickered for a moment, as if calling her fire, then dulled. Her mouth formed his name, yet had not the strength to say it. His name was her dying prayer. Robin's hand twitched slightly against the red hue of the carpet.
"Robin." He lifted her head and placed it in his lap, absently combing her hair with his fingers. He had always wanted to do it. Always wondered what it would feel like under his fingers…
He also needed to give himself time to affirm what his mind already knew was true. Robin was… No. He wouldn't think of that just yet. He would just let this moment stretch for as long as it could. Let his heart try to lessen the blow, let the all-knowing part of his mind compose itself, let itself prepare for the promised insanity.
His hand slipped and he ran his hand over her cheek. Amon's breath caught in his throat, his hand pulled back. The world shattered like glass.
Robin was cold…frigid.
---
The fire slowly consumed the rose.
A/N:
It was…his regret, his emotion for this girl, caused by this girl, amplified by this girl.
There was no excuse for what he had done; no reconciliation. His feelings had broken through his wall, left him wounded and open. Perhaps…that was reason. He had done the unspeakable because he felt injured and confronted, he did what any animal would do, he lashed out. However…
Life is not something you can give like a bargaining chip, nor is it something that can be taken. I like to believe that someone can live on in their friends, family, people they've "touched". It is…something to strive for.
Gah....I wrote this a while ago and didn't like it. But my friends do, and are threatening me with blackmail as we speak. Just...don't blame me for this.