By Blood Connected

A Fanfiction by VirM.

Chapter 24:

"I Think I Could Learn..."

"Ow!"

"If you didn't squirm so much–"

"It still would hurt either way, genius!"

Vergil was dabbing disinfectant onto the stitches holding together the demon-made wound gracing my back, re-stitching some of the more loose threads, and sewing some new ones in general. The large slash needed constant care due to its sheer size and depth. Vergil had administered a painkiller, but it wasn't quite strong enough to completely drown out the sting of the needle continuously dipping into my tender flesh.

"Careful!" I winced. Though this had become something of our post-demon-encounter-night-timeritual, I still was not used to the pain required in patching up my stitches.

"Stitches hurt, Jira." I heard Vergil sigh. "This cut is very deep."

"Yeah, well..." I was unable to come up with a retort.

"Finished." Vergil said suddenly. I hopped off of kitchen table I had been sitting on and struggled back into my shirt. I'd been wearing a halter top so he could work with the wound. The demon-induced cut stretched from the top of my right collar bone to the blade of my left shoulder. It hurt like a bitch.

"Do you think it will scar?" I asked dispassionately as I surveyed the meticulous stitches in a mirror.

"Yes." Vergil said, voice flat. "But only a little if we take care of it properly."

"Mm-hm." I said. I yawned; I was tired from the clubbing.

"Get some sleep." Vergil said. I looked at him in the mirror.

"You too, mister." I frowned at him. "You have bags under your eyes." He did indeed have large, bruise-like smudges beneath his brightly-hued eyes. He shrugged.

"I've been busy." His face was blank. I blanched.

"Doing what, staying home every day?" He never seemed to leave his study.

"Research." He said, voice infuriatingly empty.

"What kind of research?" I asked suspiciously. He took a deep breath, emotion finally breaking through his dead (no matter how beautiful) mask of a face.

"Research we need to discuss." His jaw was set. "It will have to come in the morning, though."

"Vague as always." I spat, disgusted. Then I glared at him. "I don't want anymore secrets!" His face softened, though only slightly.

"I suppose... I could tell you now." He said slowly. I relaxed slightly at that.

"Well? Start telling." I commanded, crossing my arms over my chest. He chuckled dryly.

"Impatient as always..." He quipped, using my own phrase against me. He snapped the lid of the medicine box shut and stored it in one of the many cabinets surrounding us. "Let's go into the living room. This may take some time."

I didn't wait for him to follow, simply walked out of the kitchen and into the afore-mentioned space. Glancing at the grandfather-clock set against one wall, I swore.

"It's two-fifteen!" I gasped. Had the gig really lasted that long? I heard Vergil enter the room behind me.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to wait until morning?" He asked dubiously. I shook my head and plopped down onto a couch.

"Nope." I wasn't going to let him weasel out of this. "Tell me. Now. Hop to it."

Vergil eyed me intently as he settled himself into the armchair across from my spot on the couch. He laced his fingers together and regarded me over the top of his entwined digits, and I was forcibly reminded of the posture he had assumed during our sessions back at J.L. Tyler's.

"You once asked me about our age difference." Vergil began. I nodded in affirmation.

"And then you asked about the differences in our rate of aging." I nodded a second time; I had indeed questioned him on numerous occasions about similar matters, and I had not received a straight-forward answer yet.

"You and I... will age in drastically different ways." He said slowly, eyes drifting around the room.

"Go on." I prompted. The news was not surprising; I had surmised as much.

"When you are forty, you will look like a forty year old." His eyes were regretful. "But I... I will appear as you see me now."

"Yeah, so?" I asked. I had again surmised as much. "What's the deal?"

"The deal–" Vergil snapped, suddenly vicious, rocketing forward and out of his chair. He began to pace the room in front of me, prowling like a territorial wolf. "– is that–"

He cut himself off and began to visibly calm himself. He walked back to his seat and sat down, –though he sat on the very edge of his chair– seemingly ready to spring at any moment.

"The blood tie–" He began again. "– Has made you a part of me, and–"

"Why is it that I don't feel this blood tie thing at all?" I asked suddenly, cutting him off mid-sentence. "I mean, you talk about it all the time, but I've never used it... except for that one time with that demon..." I unconsciously raised a hand and began to finger the pendant Vergil had given me. "It seems so one-sided."

"It is, at this point." Vergil replied. "I am a demon; I am more attuned to spiritual things than you are." He turned away from me. "You'll feel it when you come of age."

I was suddenly glad that he was turned from me, as my cheeks were turning a very unnatural shade of pink. Every time he mentioned the 'come of age' thing, I felt myself blush uncontrollably. I knew what it implied, and was unsure of how to handle it.

"Well, that's not for another five months." I said nervously, attempting to cover my embarrassment with words. "So... yeah." I finished lamely. "Five months."

He turned back to me.

"But I feel it." He said quietly. The look in his eyes was heart-wrenching: a mix of hurt, depression, and sadness. "And once you are... gone, I don't plan on living long without you."

I sat still a moment, digesting his words, taking in their heart-felt meaning.

Then I laughed.

The laugh was humorless.

"You're just saying that because of this blood tie thing." I smiled sadly at him. "I'm a part of you– yes– but not by choice. It was decided for you." I shook my head.

"You say you won't live without me– but you only say that because you've been forced into saying it; you don't actaully feel it of your own free will. You don't want me as me, but as what only I can be." I met his eyes.

"The blood tie's other half."

I looked down at the cane clutched in my hands, grimacing. "You don't want me as a person, but as what I am. I'm just an object."

I sat in silence for a long moment, waiting for his affirmation that he didn't want me for me, that I was nothing but an object that the blood tie used as a toy, that it wasn't his choice at all and he regretted ever meeting me. I steeled myself for rejection, and then:

"No."

I jerked my head up to look a him, eyes wide in shock and incredulousness. His cobalt eyes were steady as they regarded me openly.

In them I saw sorrow and pain, years and years of it, and I wondered how he had survived his long life without becoming insane. The amount of it pervading his features would've crushed me in a moment, and he bore it all himself. It seemed the world was on his shoulders.

"You couldn't be more wrong."

He stood slowly and approached me, then kneeled. I sat there --utterly still-- as he placed his bare hands on either side of my face. His fingers curled a strand of my hair into place behind my ear, and I shivered from the close contact.

My eyes roved over his features hungrily: that straight aristocrat's nose, those high-boned cheeks, that pale, perfect forehead, and those lips– so sensual for a man, yet somehow evading all femininity.

Yet, despite all this, his blue, blue eyes were the most alluring of them all.

He shut those sea-side eyes before I had drunk my fill of them and spoke again:

"That was the case, at first. But eventually..."

I heard his reply echo through my mind as he coaxed the blood tie into being once again, the brush of this fragment of white-hot truth more precious than even the warmth of his hands against my cheek:

Jira...

I think I could learn to love you.

AUTHOR TIME

(Vir M. Creeps in, wraith-like, flicks on lights, and quietly posts this chapter)

So I just had a fit of inspiration in the last twenty minutes or so... I dunno if this will be received well at ALL... but who knows? Did you hate this? Love it? As a formal apology for that last, awful chapter, I give you this bit of fluff. It looks like everyone's favourite odd couple has taken another step towards felicity... The rest of Vergil's surprising revelation comes next chapter. No ,this is not THE EVENT I alluded to, but it is the lead-in. I hope you enjoyed.

(creeps out just as quietly, then flicks off lights)

Good night, everyone.

DEVIL MAY CRY © CAPCOM

BY BLOOD CONNECTED © VIRM.