(insert disclaimer here)

Monkey see, Monkey do

Part I: The Long Trip Home

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Oh dear. This chapter still doesn't make any sense to me at all.

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CHAPTER 6: Jolly Old Uncle Chris

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The hot air outside hit Sekhmet hard as he slammed past the heavy glass doors, towing Kayura behind him. She bumped lightly into him as he stopped just outside of the doors, frozen in the sun. Patiently, she moved to his side, watching and waiting. They were both silent.

Standing there, worked up, in the middle of a sidewalk no less cramped than the store he'd just so decisively left, Sekhmet found himself at a loss of what to do. Harrods wasn't an anomaly in the middle of a peaceful, warlord friendly London. Dashing out of the store didn't get him the tranquil countryside he wanted, and not only that, his recent discomfort didn't seem nearly so crippling out here in the open air. Not to mention that he'd been saving up his adrenaline for the imagined battle Kayura was surely going to give him for the wrench he'd thrown in her plans.

Instead he was feeling silly and stupid for embarrassing himself like that, and Kayura wasn't giving him the good, stress-relieving, shouting match he wanted. She was not interrogating him in the least about their sudden departure, merely waiting quietly. As she watched him patiently, Sehkmet felt himself wishing she had asked him about it. He wasn't sure of the answers either.

Then, in an atypical manner, Sekhmet decided he didn't care. This was stupid, he was dancing to Kayura's tune for the righteous indignation it offered, and it – just – wasn't – worth – it.

They would go someone place else. They would eat. And maybe, just maybe, he'd be relaxed enough to stand talking to her.

Even as he moved to pull Kayura farther away, she stopped him, giving his hand a quick, suspiciously reassuring squeeze. He turned to her defensively and unwilling to forfeit his brief advantage. He was not going to be played with again.

But Kayura only smiled shyly. She removed something from the sleeves – a small rectangle of …plastic? Anger withered to be replaced with shock. She held the credit card up to her lips, flaunting it, and her gaze turned mischievous.

"So, no more of that, eh?" she murmured. If he didn't know any better, he'd have said she seemed proud – of him. Her grin widened behind the card.

"Lunch, then?"

~~~~

Rowen scraped strawberries and whipped cream onto the small piece of pancake before stabbing it with his fork and chomping into it with relish. He gave a contented sigh as he chewed enthusiastically.

Across the booth, Mia sat quietly as she huddled into Kento's big down jacket, looking small and sad in the expanse of fabric. The brown green of the jacket turned her skin a sickly, pale shade.  Even the air around her seemed somber. Rowen slowed, watching her pensively as he experienced a moment's regret that he'd teased her. Shaking it off, he took another bite of his fruit-adorned pancakes. Now this was good food! She'd have to cheer up here. What other choice did she have, in his stimulating company?

 "You know," Rowen started, "They used to have the greatest commercials for this." He gestured to his plate.

Mia mustered up enough interest to respond. "Oh?" she asked politely. She turned away from the window towards her companion. He watched her with mild anticipation, those god-forsaken sunglasses resting on top of his mussed up hair, damp after the dash from car to door.

He nodded, the sunglasses trembling with the movement. "You bet. It had the IHOP guy, you know the IHOP guy? Well, actually neither do I. This guy he's wearing the disguise glasses that look like Groucho Marx – or was it just sunglasses? Anyway he's embarrassed to order this 'cuz it's called Tooty Fruity…"

Mia lost track of Rowen's story as the unrelenting storm again drew her attention. Kento's phone call had completely failed to reassure her. And she was still rattled from the Zeppelin waltz. For a second there, she had entertained the belief that Rowen might actually to be flirting with her. The thought that one of her tenants might be romantically interested in her had never occurred to her before. 

And now that it had, the idea that anyone felt she was worth a flirt was shockingly of the warm and fuzzy variety.

True – if Rowen had been serious, it would have caused no end of trouble, embarrassment at having to reject him and then live with him being the very least. Yet, it had driven painfully home the truth that her social life consisted of playing mother to a group of retired superheroes. She was too young to be a mother already and not even have had the pleasure of meeting the father!

So here she was at an IHOP with the sneaky, little rat bastard himself and feeling horribly sorry for herself while trying to pretend that she wasn't. Secretly, Mia admitted that this wasn't just a bad night in a sea of happy days. Lately, there were too many bad nights and bad days. She didn't know why.

No. No, now that she thought about it she knew exactly why. But – she shouldn't be upset. It wasn't her problem was it?

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Sage sat rigidly in the passenger seat as Kento pull the seat belt across his chest and lean forward to start the van. For the first time that day, Sage was forced to consider something else besides his own problems. He was mystified by the strange expression that had crossed his friend's face when they met.

Kento on the other hand, was content to let the silence stretch while he tried to contain the worry that was determined to regain lost ground and then some. It wasn't half so comforting as should have been to know that at least one of his friends was safe. Instead, as soon as he'd seen Sage he'd been struck by the worry, returning hard and fast and worse than before. If Sage were here… than Cye and Ryo and Yuli could not have picked him up and they were still missing. There still wasn't anybody who knew if they were okay.

Then Sage broke the silence.

"What are you frightened of?" Ah, he got to the point quite impressively.

Kento jumped. He tried to cover it with laughter. "uh…frightened? Heh, where'd you get that one?" He twisted the key in the ignition, but did not shift from park or make any move to begin the drive home.

"You were frightened of something," Sage repeated, sounding cold but concealing a rising dread. As Kento continued to look sheepish while denying the accusation, Sage had a sudden thought.

"Where's Ryo?" he demanded.

Kento stopped, looking up reluctantly. "We…don't know."

"What?"

"I – well, it's silly. We haven't been able to reach Cye on his cell for about an hour, since before they finished picking up the groceries, and they're pretty damn late picking you up – we got a little worried…" Kento shrugged self-consciously. "When I thought you'd been picked up, worrying seemed kinda stupid, eh?"

"Who is 'we'?"

"Mia n' me."

"Ah. Rowen?"

"Loopy as all hell. I think he has a shit load of math homework."

"Predictable," Sage commented blandly. Rowen's accepted oddities brought the situation back to normality. There wasn't anything really wrong. Or maybe he just couldn't work up the energy to care.

Kento was watching him cautiously. "Listen, are ­you okay, man? You sound like you're straight outta Gundam Wing. It's just a little freaky."

"I don't watch the show."

Kento rolled his eyes. "Omae o korosu," he muttered.

Irritated at the attention, Sage changed the subject. "So we don't have the slightest clue as to where Ryo or Cye is at the moment."

"Nada. And Yuli."

"Oh. Well, that's…lovely," Sage observed for lack of anything better to do. He felt strangely detached from it all. It only made sense that today would end with more rotten luck. He let his head fall back against the headrest. Kento was looking at him strangely again.

"Rowen doesn't think we should worry," Kento said carefully. "Do you?"

Sage didn't even look in his direction. "I don't care."

"What?" Kento spluttered.

"I don't care. Leave me alone," he murmured, voice laced with exhaustion. He turned his head towards the window. "Whether or not we worry, they'll be fine. They always are."

Angry at the callous dismissal, Kento jerked the car into drive. He wrenched the car none too gently in a tight circle towards the front of the school. Sage continued to ignore him.

Kento exhaled angrily through his nose, giving the impression of an angry bull. Realizing the futility of forcing sense into Sage, he tried to relax, not feeling up to fury at the moment and settling for mild irritation.

It was at this point, while he was lost in thought that the girl jumped out in front of the van. So that even driving slowly, he almost hit her. The van jerked to a halt, ending Sage's brief respite from the world with jolt.

Kento stared. "It's that girl…"

Sage looked up at the somewhat lacking explanation and felt his relief at Kento's rescue evaporate at the sight of the girl standing, arms spread, in front of the car. This was turning out to be one stunningly horrible day.

He growled again in what was beginning to become something of a habit. "Minako!"

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Cale rifled through the mail impatiently. It seemed to him that today he had received twice the bills, adds, and catalogs than he had received in all the previous weeks put together. Tensely, he tossed letter after letter aside on the wooden bench underneath the mailboxes. The lobby of the apartment building was mercifully empty of even the occasional resident coming or going. As Cale felt his frightened anticipation, he was relieved to be spared their watching eyes. Months here still hadn't taught him just what was acceptable modern behavior and not worthy of stares or unwanted questions.

Suddenly he stopped cold as his fingers brushed one particular letter. The one he'd checked the box for every day this week. He'd awaited eagerly, excitedly, but now that it had arrived he felt above all a deep and cutting dread. Clutching it to his chest, he rushed back upstairs, only pausing to sweep up the relevant mail from the discarded catalogs.

He did not stop until he was shut safely in his room. Sitting on his bed, holding the envelope with frozen fingers, he called upon whatever courage, bravery, or simple recklessness that had made him one of the most feared creatures under Talpa's reign.

And he opened the letter.

~~~~

Rowen continued babbling cheerfully on. It was oddly reassuring, in a Rowen kind of way. Mia suspected he might actually be cheering her up.

Feeling suddenly perverse, Mia leaned forward over the table, hands clasped in her lap. "So Mr. Hashiba, what does is feel like to be a hero?" she asked casually.

Rowen actually choked on his strawberry. "Mrrrrrmmmff?" he asked politely.

Energy drained as quickly as it had come, Mia sighed and flicked at the zipper on her jacket. "Doesn't it ever bother you that no one remembers, Rowen?" She leaned back again, watching him sadly. It seemed to her that if she thought about it too much she might cry.

Rowen swallowed his mouthful. "No," he answered honestly. "I mean how could they? Have you ever read a superman comic book? X-men? Do you believe in that stuff?"

"Rowen, you five – you're real. We are not living in a world that superman saved and everyone else forgot," she whispered.

"Ah," Rowen smirked knowingly, "but how would you know, hmm?"

Mia nodded without hearing and gave up on talking to him. She couldn't take the humor anymore. Instead, she huddled into the booth and the down jacket as far as she could go, hiding from her less than perfect world.

Rowen bit his lip, watching her apprehensively. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision and put aside his plate.

"Seriously, Mia, there are no superheroes. We CAN'T exist, hence nobody remembers us."

"Rowen, what are you talking about?"

"Mia, what I'm saying is that as far as the world is concerned, we aren't real. Less than real, because we don't have our own comic, you know? I mean, I know it happened: I was there, I remember it, but these people live in a world where that isn't possible."

Mia's forehead creased in sudden worry. "Rowen – "

Rowen shrugged uncomfortably. "Okay, yeah, I guess it does bother me. But I don't want to undo that. Sure, it's popular. People want heroes. They pay a lot of money for false drama: books, movies, comics, you name it, but that doesn't make this stuff real and I don't want to break what I fought to protect."

"People do want it though, Rowen. That's a form of gratitude, I guess. That news report – I don't know what those girls were if not heroes-to-be."

Rowen snorted angrily. Mia watched in surprise at the unexpected change in the calm. "Imitation heroes-to-be, manufactured-heroes-to-be. Why," he paused, suddenly too furious to speak, "why the fuck can't anyone be heroes themselves? Why do they read about Superman and then be assholes themselves? That's why they forgot us – to make their own heroes. I was hoping they'd do a better job!" He pushed the plate away. It clanged against the table and the silverware, jarring the dense quiet in the midst of the storm.

Mia reached across that table to grip his wrist reassuringly. She wanted to speak, to say something comforting but was interrupted by the waitress refilling their water glasses and bringing their check.

"Heroes, huh?" the petite waitress asked cheerfully. "So what're you guys talkin' about back here? A new movie?"

Rowen answered with surprising cheer. "Oh, a new RPG that's just come out. The Super-Duper Hero Role Playing Game? It's great," he answered easily. They exchanged a few easy sentences on the subject. When she left, he snatched up the check, and flashed Mia a smile. "So, who's paying?"

"Rowen," Mia admonished sternly. She half rose from the table, fixed on him. "Rowen, are you all right?" His smile was deceptively sincere. "What didn't you say?" she asked suspiciously.

Rowen faltered. Choices flickering across his face, he chose to answer. Mia found the trust he offered to be greater support that anything he had done to cheer her up previously.

"All the damage – everything that happened to this city; it's all gone. Do you see it anywhere? We never repaired it. Nobody did, but it's gone all the same. Sometimes, when I don't have anything else to do I think – and I know its ridiculous, but I can't help thinking about it."

"Thinking what, Rowen?" Mia asked cautiously. She sat down.

He stood there half out of the booth, self consciously trying to struggle through it, like someone trying to explain rocket science to a chipmunk. "It's just," he said finally, slowly. "Hariel's white armor had the power to destroy the world. Not just blow up dirt and rocks. To really, actually destroy the fabric of this dimension. Talpa wanted it to destroy our world and create one in his own image. In the end, Ryo trapped him and we broke open Talpa. Something, some power came out.

"We thought afterwards that it was just Ryo coming back, but I can't help thinking – what if – what if the armor did what it was supposed to?

"What if we beat Talpa by creating a world where he wasn't possible?"

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A bird chirped over his head and a cool breeze ruffled the canvas of the large umbrella over the table. The white plastic chairs were uncomfortable to sit, but they were so much greater than Harrod's misery that they provided a mental comfort quite overcoming the physical. Sekhmet would gratefully have reclined on a bed of rusty nails if it got him away from that horrible store! Here was much, much better. The Café was popular but not so unpleasantly crowded that he found himself actually enjoying the sound of human conversation buzzing in his ears. Occasionally a car would honk on the street or one acquaintance would shout a greeting to another, but traffic was light and the atmosphere was pleasant overall. He breathed deeply in the crisp air and was happy to be outside on so pleasant a day. 

Across the table, his companion shifted in a whisper of silk and smiled. It was a real smile with none of the hidden scheming from before and he fancied that she was enjoying her escape from the department store as much as he. "You seem happy," she said. He nodded absently and his deep embedded guilt did not even object, the present locality comparing so favorably to the previous. Perhaps such dark feelings did not dare brave the unhindered light of the sun shining in a clear sky.

"Yes," he agreed.  A young blond waiter placed two water glasses on the table but forgot a menu, and he hurried quickly away to retrieve it. Kayura watched his anxiety quizzically with a slight grin of amusement. When he returned, Kayura touched his wrist kindly with her small hand and thanked him politely in Japanese. The mood was so relaxed that the boy was untroubled by the unknown words and speaking English, graciously welcomed her to Britain. He wished her stay here was a pleasant one. Kayura thanked him again when he was through. No doubt each person found the others speech incomprehensible, but Sekhmet was left with the impression that both speakers had understood each other perfectly. In contrast to himself, who was only just able to catch the basic meaning of the boy's greeting, but it did not bother him. Right now, he didn't think anything could.

Content, Sekhmet allowed his eyes to wander, watching the pedestrians that passed the sidewalk Café. Even to his more experienced eyes, the clothes looked strange and unfamiliar. He had not been here for an extended visit in nearly a decade and it seemed fashion still shifted just as easily. A boy, younger than their waiter, perhaps 11 years old, crossed the street hurriedly, a pair of roller blades slung over one shoulder by their knotted laces. His auburn hair and slim face looked slightly familiar to Sekhmet. Maybe he had been one of the people watching Kayura in the department store. Sekhmet watched curiously as tossing his blades over his other shoulder, the boy revealed a string of Japanese kanji painted across his white shirt. Sekhmet wondered if the boy could actually read any Japanese.

The waiter returned to take their order and Sekhmet had to help Kayura choose from several things she found the less disgusting than the rest. He should have guessed she wouldn't like foreign food; Kayura and compromise did not belong in the same sentence. Then the waiter departed, and they were left to themselves. Kayura allowed the semi-awkward silence to last for a second before she began purposefully making origami with her paper napkin. He watched her industrious folding for a few moments, becoming confused. "Kayura," he finally asked, "what are you making?" She didn't look up, but smiled slightly.

"Talpa," she replied. Sekhmet jerked forward at the name and the bliss his escape from Harrods had brought him evaporated instantly.

"What?" he asked as he stared at her delicate hands skillfully folding the paper in quick divisions. He movements were haphazard and no clear shape formed. Instead the paper degraded into an ugly mass of rips and tears and Kayura continued folding in sharp deliberate bursts. Sekhmet sat mesmerized and searched the mass in horror for a sign of his master's terrible face. Suddenly, Kayura stopped and examining her indistinct creation, gave a satisfied nod. She dipped her long fingers into her water glass, and flicked her fingers, splattering water across its paper form. Together they watched as the flimsy napkin almost dissolved in the liquid, turning an indiscriminate ashy gray.

Finally, Kayura looked away and up. When Sekhmet was finally able to tear his gaze away he found himself looking at her eyes as she watched him. There was something vaguely malevolent in them. "Did that bother you?" she asked bluntly.

"What-" Sekhmet swallowed. "What was that?"

Kayura glanced at the soggy mess and her gaze turned contemptuous. "Talpa. I didn't get to kill him," she said. "Now, I do!"

Sekhmet was unexpectedly angry. "No. No, you did that just to upset me."

She stopped and twisted a finger in her hair, almost embarrassed. There was a pause. "Yes," she admitted. "I'm sorry." Suddenly, she frowned. Dropping her hands from her hair, she slapped them down against the table palm flat. Water droplets from the Talpa-napkin puddle sprayed Sekhmet's face. "You never speak to me except to shout. So I made you angry. It seemed the logical way to talk to you!"

Sehkmet clenched his teeth shut against an angry response. He hissed through his teeth, snarling quietly, "Stop playing with – "

"You? I've noticed you taking a stand now. Are you certain you want to do that?" she inquired sweetly. "Do you know what you did in that store?"

"No. What?" he snapped.

She smiled. "You chose personal comfort over guilt for your crimes."

As always the mention of guilt hit hard, twisting his anger around into shame and a burning sense of his own inadequacy. Kayura was right to censure him.

Instead she lashed out violently in a manner rather unexpected.

"You dolt! Don't you dare turn back into that simpering lump of useless flesh you've been for the last two years!"

He stared.

"It's taken this long and a lot of painful mucking about to force that idea into you. I thought today was going a little to far, but you are dense, you know that? Guilt, schmilt. If you must atone for you past, then be what you were not – human." She dropped the harsh tone, saying kindly, "No one demanded this lifelessness."

Having no response, Sekhmet let a silence descend upon the table. He stared fixedly at the disintegrated napkin, knowing that Kayura would be ready to meet his gaze piercingly if he should dare to raise his eyes. He was not certain what to think of this. The iron determination from earlier was nowhere to be found.

In the midst of this thoughtful brooding, Kayura gave a little "Oh!" of surprise. Curious, Sehkmet looked up.

The familiar boy was standing next to their table, forehead scrunched up in a thoughtful frown and roller blades dangling from his left hand. He was watching Sekhmet's face intensely and barely seemed to realize that the table's occupants had noticed him. Sekhmet had enough time for a moment's dread before the child's concentration broke into a high-pitched cry of glee. Then, to Sekhmet's horror and ultimate confusion, the child took a step forward and flung his arms around the warlord's neck. "Oh, Uncle Christopher!" he cried in accented Japanese, "It is you!"

End Chapter 6.

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All right. As warned, things may be revised. After maryd's review for this chapter, I decided to fix a few things. I realized that something's weren't clear with Kento and Sage and I didn't like the way some parts of the Rowen and Mia scene read. Also added some need punctuation in places.

In the previous chapter Kento was frightened on seeing Sage. The reason was meant to be revealed in this chapter but I may have been too vague. Kento is frightened because when he sees Sage he realizes that Ryo didn't pick him up like Minako said. This means that unlike he told Mia, Ryo and Cye are still missing and he gets really worried again. Kapeesh? Yay.


Melee

Okay. This did take a month. Wow. I'm afraid this chapter got more serious in some parts because I randomly a couple nights ago turned out like ten pages of another ronin fic, completely unrelated to this one. It was…weird. So I'm still stuck in that rut. Oops. Of course you'll never see that one because I have no idea what's up with it and there's no one who ever wants to help me edit and critique my fics before I post them. So I don't have the faintest idea if anyone would like this thing. It sux, man. Oh well, just won't post it. That was simple.

Now on to the reviews to which I give responses that are longer than the review. LoooooooooSER.

Svelte Rose: Thankies. I repeat that I don't write romance (for my safety and yours). Minako is _not_ Sage's type. I guess I should say that I won't tell what happens with Minako and Sage. Since the story isn't finished and I'm not good with long term planning (up until yesterday morning the last Rowen and Mia scene was meant to be about Ryo's tendency towards depression) I guess they COULD get together. I will say, though this is irrelevant, that I will never pair Sage up with Mia, not even if hell _does_ freeze over. Ooh, or Sage with Touma. I can't STAND either of those. Um…not that you cared. Uh…bye. Thanks again? I really like Sage (when he isn't a jack ass) and Ryo though…

Maryd: Oh, you'll review this chapter too won't you? It's a little more serious but strangely twice as loopy. ANYWAY. Thanks for the great review. Why did I name that chapter Rocket to the Moon? Well originally it was supposed to be starting some sort of climax. It was also supposed to refer to how it looked like everything was okay but in reality more people are getting lost and already lost people are getting more lost. So everyone just gets 'rocketed' away, y'know. Okay, fine. It was because I thought it sounded cool. I hope that the more serious tone in this chapter didn't ruin the fun, fun pair of Rowen and Mia that you liked. What did you think about that? Their last line was just a thought that struck me and I really liked.

Oooh, Cye is the one I'm utterly sure I'm always screwing up. Double yay!

Skywolf:  Still no Mary Sues. Hope I didn't make you wait too, too long. You know, I am having trouble keeping focused on this one. Maybe I should write an epic though I worry about what I'd screw up with that one. This is random enough. Woohoo! (random shout of joy).