Disclaimer: I do not own any characters represented in this story that are from Street Fighter. The characters, some places, and some terminology are owned by Capcom. If I did, I would totally be changing the look of Dante in the Devil May Cry reboot. White hair people, Dante has LONG WHITE HAIR! /rant over.


Chapter 9

It doesn't take long for him to accept my company again. At first, he didn't show consideration for me, and my obvious sluggishness. He does his nightly kata's in the same pace as always, while I try to practice the same motions. Even so, I finish each move at my slower pace. He would sit down and get ready for bed long before I would be finished. He never even watched or commented. Now, I am getting better, but still slow, but now he waits for me, or repeats moves again instead of moving on to the next form.

He never asks how I feel, or how I am recovering. I sometimes wish he would, but then I am afraid to talk about it anyway. I don't want to cry in front of him. I don't want to show that I am weak. I want to show him I can be strong again. But at least when I have trouble with something, I can see his concern in his eyes.

We don't talk as we used to, even about fighting. I almost miss his broken record quotes of "what we learn from fights" and "blah blah blah managing your Ki" and the hundreds of other things he always repeated to me, daily.

Despite his, even less now, lack of character, I still find myself drawn to him. It is the little bits of care and concern that get me thinking about him. He never had to slow down his practice, he doesn't have to show the concern in his eyes, but he does, and he does for me. I never see him treat anyone else the same way. I can't say that I love him. But in all honesty I don't know exactly how I feel. I would never even know how to tell him. Sometimes I want to.

It's been about another month now. It is starting to warm up, which makes practicing easier. I am almost as fast as I used to be. My stomach is its normal flat self again, aside from the scars. They are still raised, and whiter than the rest of the skin on my stomach. I hate looking at them, so I try to avoid it. At night, when I lay down, I catch myself tracing them from one end to another. I need to stop doing that. All it does is make me remember, and then I dream about it again.

When I start to think about that whole nightmare, I try to shift my thoughts to something more pleasant. Of course, the usual thought is him. I am back to my thoughts of intimate encounters with Mr. Lone Warrior. I can't help it anyway, because he is always shirtless at night and I can't seem to stop staring. It only amplifies my growing feelings for him. I want to tell him something. I still haven't thanked him for helping me, in the little ways he does.

My emotions get the best of me. It's either the thoughts I have or the feelings I have that make me do it. I am crazy for doing this but I can't control myself, because I am not sure exactly how he will react when he sees me, as he is at the lake, probably swimming, even though it's still a bit chilly and the water has to be freezing. He probably doesn't have any clothes on either. Maybe it will cool me off too. I need a good cooling off.

I know he senses me coming. I can feel the tension, even though he isn't even near me.

"Renee, what are you doing?"

"I thought swimming was a great idea too. Plus my hair is just a mess and probably needs to be washed."

"Well, can you wait for me to get out… You know… over there." He points over to some tall ferns.

"And what is it that you are afraid of? I am an adult. So are you."

Before he can protest, I take off my shirt, leaving only my sports bra underneath. I don't make eye contact as I undress because I don't want to see his reaction at the moment. I undo the drawstring to my pants and slide them off my legs. I stop there, all of a sudden feeling embarrassed that I am stripping naked in front of him. So much for being an adult.

I finally look at him, but notice that he isn't looking at my face. He is looking at my stomach. The scars. Instinctively I cover my stomach with my arms, trying to hide them.

"Don't."

I drop my hands to my sides. He swims over to get out of the lake, still looking at my body. When he gets out, I turn my head, so I don't see anything, saving him any possible embarrassment. I hear him put his pants on and then walk over to me.

He is standing right in front of me. He never gets this close. He takes his hand and touches my three scars on my shoulder. He traces each one with his fingers, starting from the one at the top, and slowly moves down to the next one, and then the bottom one. He reaches around my arm to my back, stepping a little closer to me, and traces with the same motions on the scars on my back, from top to bottom. I can feel the heat from his body, steaming off of his chest and his shoulders. I look at his eyes, which are almost heartbreaking, and his lips are parted slightly, in a tender expression.

He takes a step back, and then starts to trace my scars on my stomach. He traces each line from start to finish. I can feel each fingertip, gliding across the raised lines, in gentle strokes. He must have been feeling each one for at least five minutes, going back and forth, retracing each blemished mark. Finally, he takes his left hand and rests it on my shoulder, where the scars are. He takes his other hand and rests it on my stomach. He looks at me, with a remorseful expression on his face.

"I'm sorry."

It seems that this was all I was waiting for. My eyes start to well up with tears. My eyebrows bunch and my bottom lip starts to quiver. Before I start crying, he grabs me and holds me close, hugging me, his arms around me. I do the same, and wrap my arms around him, and start crying into his naked chest. My tears streaming down my face, then onto him, then down his chest.

We don't say anything to each other during this. The only thing heard is my sobbing. He lets me finish when I am ready. Even as the gasps and shudders of my weeping start to come to an end, a part of me wishes to keep going, just to keep him in my embrace. His body is warm, and my bare skin touching his feels so soothing.

Finally, when I am done, he cups my face with his hands and wipes away any moisture leftover on my cheeks with his thumbs. My heart begins to race. My face starts to flush, as it warms from the adrenaline. I can feel his too, also picking up in pace. My mind is racing with thoughts of him kissing me. I close my eyes and lean in closer to him…

And then he lets go of my face, gently, and takes a step back. I open my eyes, confused that nothing happened. His face returns to its normal state of expression, or lack there of.

"Take as much time as you need here. I am going to go back and start making something to eat."

He grabs his shirt which is hanging from a nearby tree, and then walks towards camp.

I stand there, dumbfounded by what just happened. *We had an emotional moment there, you can't just walk away! What the hell? You had my face in your hands, and your face was centimeters away from mine, and you walk away. What kind of man are you?* I frown, frustrated and angry, as I grab my clothes and put them back on.

*Think you can walk away from me like that. We are going to discuss this whether you like it or not!*

I stomp back to camp. He is kneeling by the fire, cooking our dinner, not paying attention to me. I lean on one leg and cross my arms over my chest and raise one eyebrow at him. I wait for him to look at me. Finally he does after a few minutes.

"What?"

"You know what."

He shakes his head and goes back to cooking dinner, stirring it around when it doesn't need to be stirred. Clearly wanting to avoid talking to me.

"What the hell was that?" I yell, uncrossing my arms and waiving them to the side.

He stands up and looks at me with his usual hard expression.

"I can't."

"Can't what?" I say aggressively.

For the first time, he snaps at me. "I can't be that person you want me to be. I have been alone almost my entire life. And then all of a sudden you come along. No, not like the others, they all go away. But you, you never go away. You never leave me alone. Haven't you ever thought that maybe I like being by myself? You are a distraction!"

I am taken aback. I went from frustrated and angry to shocked and a little depressed. Did he just tell me he doesn't want me around?

It didn't make sense. There have been so many situations where he showed interest in my companionship. I think back to my almost dying moment

*"I…. n-need…t-t-to …."

"Don't talk. You will have all the time in the world to tell me. Right now you just need to focus. Look at me Renee. Focus."*

Even afterwards, when I lost conciseness, I still heard him.

*"You will be sorry if you die on me. I was just getting used to you being around all the time. If you die, you are going to regret it."*

I decide to use this as my ammo.

"No, I don't think you like being alone. I remember some things you said. Like having time to tell you. You threatening me if I die. If you like being alone, you wouldn't have said those things."

"Forget what I said. At that time I couldn't handle someone dying in my hands. And now you live. You shouldn't take that for granted. Go home, Renee. Go back to where ever you came from, and leave me in peace."

He takes his eyes off of me, and sits back down. He forcefully spoons in his meal into his bowl and begins eating, never glancing at me in the slightest. I still stand there, surprised and dejected. I need time to gather my thoughts, to figure out what to do. I need to get away for a moment, and do what he asks, leave him in peace.

I walk away from him and go into the forest and find a tall tree. He doesn't watch me leave the clearing. I climb the tree to a high level and find a thick arm that I can sit on and lean my back against the trunk. I settle in to my spot and try to get comfortable. I can still see the glow of the campfire, but I can't see the clearing at all. I close my eyes so I can think about what I need to do now.


Note: Aw how sad.