So far, this is the only WHR fic that I have attempted. And I must say, it is quite depressing, even for me!
Maybe that's why I stuck the part with the other three in there, just to lighten the mood a bit, hehe.
I had my own idea swimming around in my head about what happened when the season left off,
and this is how it came out. I haven't worked on the story in a long time, due to other fics being time greedy,
but I hope to pick this one back up soon. Maybe it's just me, but this is how I picture Amon and the
situation he's in. I guess it's just my own way of explaining his moody behavior.
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A Witch's Regret
Chapter 1
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Soft, soothing jazz drifted through the bar, it's notes caressing and healing the worries of the few, scattered
patrons seated on stools or at the small, cozy tables bathed in candlelight. The saxophone took the stress away.
Hell, how he hated the place. On a Saturday night, it was just too damned depressing.
Not like he had anything else to do. Except think about his current situation, which always brought him down.
And was exactly the reason why he was in the bar.
Harry leaned over the bar, eyes drifting over the glass of scotch and it's victim huddled over it.
"....Another drink?"
Amon nodded then stopped when the motion made his head throb. The ache moved from the depths of his skull
and seeped into his chest, making it hard to breathe. Maybe he'd already had too much to drink, but he refused to
stop until his thoughts subsided into a dull blur somewhere in the back of his mind.
----
Harry looked over at Amon, worry deepening the lines on his forehead and giving his face an ancient, weathered
look. The poor man was here at least five nights a week, and Harry knew that Amon wasn't particularly fond of the
scotch he drank, he only liked the relief it could bring him. A relief that a hunter could rarely achieve.
He slid the seventh glass of amber liquid towards Amon's hand, frowning as the somber man downed it
immediately. Harry was about to take the empty glass when a familiar figure entered the bar.
----
Amon did not glance up when he heard footsteps behind his stool. Soft, quiet footsteps.
Feminine footsteps.
It was like taking ten steps in the wrong direction. Into the past.
Toko sat in the stool beside his, startled when Amon abruptly stood, placing a few crumpled bills on the counter
and left the bar. Harry and Toko watched him leave, equal signs of worry on their faces.
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The rain was better than jazz music. It literally washed away your stress, the cold water seeping into your skin
until you could feel it cleansing you to the very core.
Amon could still feel the black aura of the past residing in his many layers. He continued down the street.
Cars drove past and people hurried towards the shelter of their cramped, warm apartments. Amon placed one
foot in front of the other, relishing the feel of rivers of water flowing down his coat to the ground below.
Until a large black umbrella ceased their flowing.
Amon looked up into a pair of bright green eyes tinged with worry and something that looked to be nervousness.
"I thought you might want this."
Amon was surprised to find himself in front of Nagira's law office, all lit up and welcoming. And Robin, who had
been watching the rain from her room, had come down to offer him her umbrella.
Had he deliberately taken this route?
Robin shifted on her feet, perhaps wondering why he did not just take the umbrella from her. He was too busy
registering her sudden presence before him.
Robin had always been hard to figure out. She was quiet and did not express her feelings often, if at all.
She was honest. She was smart, that he knew. She could read people like no one he had ever seen.
And she cared. Robin cared about humans and witches alike. Treated them like equals.
Treated him as an equal, and very few did that.
Amon found his hand had somehow discovered hers, covering her small, delicate one that held the umbrella.
"Thank you."
"..You're welcome."
Amon gently took the umbrella from her and continued walking down the damp, dark street.
---------------------------------------------------
A cold sense of reality hit her, like an innocent bystander, a car, and a cruel twist of fate. The feeling burrowed
deep into her core, leaving a hollow tunnel in its wake.
She really hated being alone. The silence drove her to periods of long thought, of soul-searching, that only made
her feel more self-concious. It was a constant reprimandation, a constant, nagging worry, and it made her
nausueus.
Robin watched Amon shuffle away, shoulders hunched from the rain and reminding her of a frail old man. He
looked beaten; a man who had made it through the war, but just barely.
A man who had found himself and didn't like what he saw.
She extended one hand, halfheartedly, to his retreating form, the rain sliding between her fingers like tears.
He never looked back. He disappeared into the dark, dreary fog; a ghost vaporizing through a wall.
Robin quietly stepped inside the office, the door whispering shut behind her.
"Who was that?"
She looked up at an exhausted Nagira, expensive suit rumpled from sleep and eyes bleary and unfocused.
"It was no one. Someone passing by."
"Passerbys never stay for long enough... do they..."
Robin chose to ignore his pointed statement, opting instead to take the stairs up to her loft. A jagged bolt of
lightning echoed through the glass door, illuminating her form, highlighting her shaking shoulders. Her door
closed in another whisper of sound.
"Thanks again, brother..."
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Tap, tap, tap tap.....
Squeeeeeeeeak...... Squeeeeeeeeak.......
Plink..... Plink.... Plink.....
"Damnit, this sucks!" Haruto Sakaki ceased dropping the coin on his desk and chose to throw it across the room
instead, sending it bouncing off the wall and landing in an old, tepid cup of coffee.
Yurika Doujima stopped spinning from side to side in her squeaky desk chair but continued to stare at the rivers
of rainwater flowing steadily down the office window. Michael Lee continued to tap his feet to the music from
his cd player, eyes darting quickly over his computer screen.
Boredom had a deathlike grip on the members of the STNJ.
Sakaki practically leapt from his chair and yanked the headphones from Michael's head. "Cut it OUT!"
"What did I do," Michael asked angrily, rising defensively.
"You annoy everyone with that damn noise you make! Just sit STILL!"
"Oh, it's all me, is it? You're not annoying ANYONE, right?!"
"Boys! Cut it out, geez," Doujima snapped, throwing the two a furious look over he shoulder. "Honestly, can't we
act our age around here?"
Sakaki and Michael sighed in unison and returned to their chairs. Lack of anything to do was eating away at their
patience and sanity, and quickly.
Sakaki balanced a pencil on the bridge of his nose, watching it with slightly crossed eyes. "Where's the Chief,
anyway? I haven't seen him paying his due time."
Yurika set her chin in her hands, propped them on the back of her chair, then proceeded to spin again. "Where
everyone else is.. home. There's nothing to do... no witches... no murders... no-"
"Plenty of damn rain though. This shit hasn't let up for damn minute since we arrived."
Michael leaned away from his computer screen and gave Sakaki a reprimanding look. "Yeah, we get the idea..
'damn this' and 'shit that'. Think you could calm down now?"
"Yeah, if I had something to do, I wouldn't be so pissed off."
"Well, it's not just you two. Try being stuck here 24/7."
Doujima raised one delicate eyebrow. "That's over, you don't HAVE to be here 24/7 anymore."
A long pause followed.
"Well, I have nothing better to do..."
Doujima and Sakaki sighed dramatically.
The rain broke from the clouds mercilessly, pounding a steady, relentless rythym on the windows and roof of
the STNJ, seeming to cut it off from the outside world.
"We should leave."
"We're supposed to stay here and be night watch, Sakaki."
"Since when did you start following orders, Doujima?"
"....Good point."
Sakaki and Doujima rose from their chairs, donning their dark STNJ coats and turning off their computers.
"Ya coming, Michael," Doujima asked, standing behind him.
"Depends.. where are you going?"
Doujima and Sakaki smiled. "Out."
"Ya, I'm comin'."
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Cold and suffocating darkness enveloped the tiny apartment and it's sole occupant. Sporadic lightning bolts
sliced through the ineffective blinds and brought harsh, momentary light that only made the apartment appear
more sinister. A particularly bright flash sent jagged shards of white light through the glass on the coffee table,
reflecting it across the lifeless walls like thousands of sharp knives.
Amon did not feel enough to flinch at the booming thunder that echoed behind. With his head back on the
cushions of the stiff couch, he stared at the ceiling with dull eyes.
It was here he truly felt alone.
He felt his lungs rise and fall slowly and steadily, concentrating on the rythym to blur out everything else. He
had never felt more helpless and more scared.
'So... this is what it feels like to be a witch...'
Amon's thoughts returned and swirled through his mind in a black vortex of pain and uncertainty. He would never
forget... could never forget, no matter how hard he tried to block it out, to numb it out, it would still reside and
claw it's way from the back of his mind.
An innocent person. He had killed them... because he was a witch.
----
"Amon.. your power.. teleportation."
"Yes, Robin. Teleportation."
An ugly, nasty word in his opinion. He had despised his power, refrained from using it, was scared to use it.
Maybe he was a coward and a disgrace to refuse accepting his power, but he didn't care. He, for one, did
not care to be branded the hateful 'witch'.
He knew there were exceptions, one was standing next to him. Robin was a witch's role model, using her
abilities to protect those in danger, only harming those who tried to harm others. Robin did not use her
ability for the sport of killing and the thrill and rush of power.
He could never live up to her. He would end up harming someone, so he was better off staying as he was.
Robin smiled up at him, the sunlight exposing the dust caking her fair skin, her hair that had come loose
from her updo, the dirt streaking her black skirt.
"Thank you for saving me."
"You're welcome."
She glanced back at the complex behind them, rubble now, and her eyes filled with worry.
"I hope the others made it out safely."
He coughed slightly, dust still flowing through his lungs. "I'm sure they are fine. They were not so far from
the exit."
Robin nodded, and looked at him again with those knowing, viridian eyes.
"Amon, I've never seen you use your power before..."
He stared into the distance with eyes lacking emotion.
"I know."
"But, why? Why would you not use your power?"
"There is no use for it. My powers would only be a hindrance."
Robin's eyes flashed with an indignant light, her hair twirling about her as she shook her head in
frustration.
"You can't be serious! Your abilities could only help the STNJ!"
His eyes were serious. "Teleportation is rarely needed, Robin. I don't have to use it."
"... Why do you hide it?"
Amon put more distance between them, turning his shoulders sharply away.
"I don't hide it. There is simply no use for it, as I said."
As light as feathers drifting onto a rock, Amon felt Robin place her arms around his back, encircling his
waist gently, fingers entwining over his abdomen. His body tensed in response, an old habit reflecting his
lack of regular physical contact. Jaw set, his eyes looked downward to where her hands lay, amazed at
their fragility and gracefulness. That was Robin; graceful.
His body began to relax, her warmth pulsing through his clothing and melting his resolve. Amon could feel,
lord, he could feel her hot breath on his back, even through his thick shirt. He felt odd.
He felt... cleansed.
Robin's voice brought him back from his dreamlike state. She spoke calmly, quietly, slightly muffled.
"You saved us today. You saved us using your power. How can you tell me there is no use for it?"
"I.. can't," he nearly choked.
"Exactly."
And she held him.
----
He was actually whistling.
Amon smiled, catching himself. He couldn't remember the last time he had whistled. Years ago..
Well, dammit, he was in a good mood! So what if he was grinning goofily; so what if he was whistling?
He had finally learned to accept himself as he was.
He had finally accepted his powers.
And he couldn't believe who had brought it upon him so suddenly.
A spontaneous laugh burst from Amon's lips, causing several passerby to look at him warily.
He'd better stick to smiling.. before he scared someone.
Amon continued walking down the sidewalk, enjoying the feel of warmth from the sun, and the warmth that
had unexpectedly taken residence in his heart.
Scary, but his walk had changed as well. No longer did he drift along like a ghost, shoulders slightly
hunched, hands buried in his pockets and hair limply shielding his face from view.
He now stood tall, fingers hooked to his pockets and hand tapping his sides, head up, smiling, and taking in
all the world had to offer.
Amon smiled at a small child as their paths crossed and she smiled back, the vision of youthful innocence.
----
His memories faded at her smile. That lovely, unguarded smile that was permanently stamped in his brain,
reminding him of forever. The forever she would never have.
If he had ever had a daughter, he would want her to be as happy.
----
A terrible accident it was, so terrible.
"The poor child, you say she fell seven stories?"
"It was horrible... the sound..."
"So odd though, she didn't fall straight to the pavement."
"Perhaps a wind knocked her so hard?"
"And that poor young man, he saw the whole thing."
"He looks so distraught.. holding her like that.."
The old women of the neighborhood looked on sadly, wiping their eyes daintily, watching everything
with interest. Sounds of sirens bounced between the walls of the apartment buildings and shops, echoing
eerily in the afternoon sun. Everyone's eyes were trained on the scene.
And the young man held her broken body gently in his arms, whispering words inaudible, tears splashing
her innocent face.
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