Disclaimer: Lupin, Jigen, Goemon, Zenigata, Fujiko....they all belong to
other people. But those other people don't need to worry. I'm not making
any money.
Author's Note: Yikes, guys. Sorry about the no-updates-forever. Mea culpa, mea culpa....My internet vanished, and I thought it would never return. But it did. So here goes.
Chapter 6: All Along the Watchtower
"No reason to get excited,"/ the thief he kindly spoke./ "There are many here among us/ who feel that Life is but a joke./ But you and I, we've been through that,/ and this is not our fate./ So let us not talk falsely, now,/ the hour's getting late"...
--Bob Dylan, "All Along The Watchtower"
Lupin watched through bleary eyes as the numbers flipped over on his bedside clock. 4:34 a.m. Oh good, he thought, grimacing. Only six hours until breakfast. With a muffled growl, he turned over and buried his face in the pillow. The earlier attempts to reassure Fujiko about Alex and the Winston job had exhausted his reserves of confidence; and now scenes from the night before had been running through his mind for nearly three hours, without a wink of sleep to blot them out.
He saw the empty cases opening up, one after another. He should have called a halt when he saw the first one. He heard the gunshots echoing from the front display room; why hadn't they done a quick sweep of the place before going in? They were stupid, cocky errors. Lesson learned, he supposed. He wouldn't leave himself open to surprises again.
But then...what had happened back there? He could rationalize it all he wanted, but when the red flags had gone up in the Winston vault, he'd frozen. And chivalry aside, where *had* his mind been when he found Alex? Lupin tossed and turned some more, then propped himself up on his elbows, staring into the dark room. He hadn't lied to Fujiko, exactly--he believed everything he'd said about professional courtesy, and about Alex's potential usefulness--but none of those things had been in his brain at the time. He'd brought a random variable into the group based solely on instinct, and that was reckless.
And yet. Reckless though it was, Lupin couldn't quite bring himself to consider it a mistake.
Lupin III never asked himself, even in the tightest of squeezes, what his grandfather would have done in his place. That wasn't his style. But every so often, he knew--even without asking.
"You're damn right, old man," he said to the darkness. "I DO need a drink."
***********************************************************************
Lupin padded barefoot into the kitchen, not bothering to put on the lights. The sparse moonlight seeping in through the blinds lit his way to the liquor cabinet, while his deft fingertips--a true thief's fingertips--told him vodka, vermouth, gin, sour mix, tequila, and lastly, the scotch he was seeking. He reached into the next cupboard for a glass, deliberated for a groggy moment on whether or not to get ice, decided against it, and began to pour.
"What'd I do, Lupin," said a surly voice just behind him, "hit the age limit?" Lupin started violently, spilling scotch onto the counter. He spun around, his hand frantically searching the wall for a light switch. Bright light filled the room.
"Christ, Jigen," Lupin gasped, clutching dramatically at his chest. "You scared the crap outta me."
"Hmph," Jigen snorted. He was draped over one of the kitchen chairs, his busted arm in a sling, the rest of him in a bathrobe. A half-empty scotch glass sat on the table in front of him, but his eyes met Lupin's with a cool, level gaze.
"What, you been lying in wait or something?!" Lupin whispered indignantly. He snatched a towel from the counter and began mopping up the spilled scotch. "What the hell's the matter with you?"
Jigen raised an eyebrow by way of reply.
"What, you mean Alex?"
"So I don't even get a say in this?" Jigen jerked an angry left thumb in the general direction of Alex's room. Lupin rubbed his forehead and picked up his glass. It was nearly empty--most of the scotch had spilled out. He reached behind him for the bottle and resumed pouring.
"Look, Jigen, it's not like that," he said. "You were unconscious. SHE was unconscious, for crying out loud. And don't forget, there was a *slight* time concern, too. Believe me, nobody got consulted."
"Seems like there was plenty of consultation once she woke up, though," Jigen sneered. "Seems like a guy better keep his eyes open around here."
"Not to be crude, Jigen," Lupin hissed, "but what the *fuck* are you talking about?"
"I'm trying to figure out, Lupin," Jigen hissed back, "why the *fuck* you felt the need to go behind my back and cut me out!"
"Cut you out?!" Lupin strained to keep his voice low, figuring that whatever this was turning into, there was no need to get the whole gang involved. "What, you get shot in the head and we didn't notice? What's WITH you, man?"
"What's with me," Jigen said slowly, "is that she shouldn't even be HERE, in the first place." He held up his hand to stop Lupin, who was opening his mouth to protest. "And yet, she's here, and somehow you've decided she'll do just fine in my place. What the HELL did I miss while I was out?"
"Aw lay off, man. It isn't like that, and you know it. Goemon and I were just trying to help out a person in need."
"If that's how you wanna rationalize it," Jigen said, taking a swig from his own glass, "fine. But I couldn't help noticing that this 'person in need' has a great pair of legs." He slammed the glass down, and gazed thoughtfully at it for a moment. When he spoke again, it was in a measured, mocking tone that Lupin recognized; it signalled Jigen at his most dangerous.
"What's the matter, Lupin," he asked, "finally had it with Fujiko? That's just what we need, another woman who can screw us all out of a fortune just because she's scr--"
"Watch it, Jigen," Lupin said warningly. He could feel Jigen backing off, but the bad vibes hadn't died out just yet.
"--fine, then. Let's say it's because she's got 'diplomatic immunity.'" Jigen's voice dripped with contempt. Lupin was shaking with rage.
"That's. Enough. Jigen."
"Harsh your buzz, did I?" Jigen shot back.
"Fuck you," Lupin said, turning away. "And you leave Fujiko out of this." Behind him, Jigen gave a short laugh. "I mean it. Like we've never screwed ourselves out of a fortune withOUT her help? You know there's no three- strike policy here. Someone botches a job, it's in the past."
"Fine. Fair enough." Lupin turned back around to face his long-time friend and partner. Somehow, even without his trademark hat and suit, Jigen cut a commanding figure; Lupin felt himself on his guard despite the bond between them. Jigen, for his part, felt he was staring at a complete stranger; someone who looked the part, but acted in unaccountable ways, made uncharacteristic decisions. Every cell in his body raged against feeling so duped.
For a moment the two men stood silently, each wondering if he needed to size up a new enemy. Finally, Lupin took a deep breath and spoke.
"OK," he said calmly. "Then let's quit beating around the damn bush." He crossed the kitchen floor and sat at the table, opposite the gunman. "Look. When we took Alex out of the Winston vault with us, the thought of taking her on--in ANY capacity--never even crossed my mind. It only occurred to me later, when Goemon told us how bad your injuries were. We gave her a little test-run. She's good, Jigen. Falls somewhere in-between me and you. And as much as I hate to face it, that right arm of yours is gonna be out of commission for a good long while now."
"Yeah," Jigen snapped, "thanks to HER guys!"
"'Her' guys? The ones who beat the living snot out of her and left her trussed up for the cops? Why do I feel like her loyalties just MIGHT have shifted a bit in our favor?"
"Well what the hell were they doing there in the first place, Lupin?"
"Damned if I know, Jigen! This is a competitive business, at any level. Sure, nobody but us has the guts to go after King Tut's mask. But all those lower-profile bank jobs and jewel heists? Hell, I'm surprised we don't bump into the competition more often! It's not like I can post a notice at the grocery store-- 'Attention thieves, Monday's job at Harry Winston is ours...thanks, Lupin & Co.' Maybe I'm enough of a gentleman to leave each thief his own, but I can't vouch for everyone else out there."
Lupin paused in his rant long enough to see if Jigen was softening. He wasn't. Fine, Lupin thought. He wants it all on the table, here goes.
"And because I can't vouch for everyone else, I like my right hand man to have his right hand."
"Oh, screw you," Jigen said coldly, slamming down his glass--and wincing in pain as he did so. "We both know I shoot better left-handed than YOU shoot righty, any day of the week." This wasn't exactly the reaction Lupin had been aiming for.
"You're right," he conceded. "But I'm more comfortable relying on BOTH your hands."
"Just the hands, huh? Figures." Lupin growled low in his throat, his face turning livid.
"Aw, JEEZ," he exploded, forgetting about the sleeping people. "Now what the hell is THAT supposed to mean?!" He leapt up from the table, tearing exasperatedly at his hair. Jigen remained seated, his voice still calm--but no longer dangerous. The gunman simply sounded disappointed.
"You just don't get it, do you, Lupin?"
"Get it?" Lupin replied wearily.
"Look. Clearly you haven't picked up on it, but I'm not just some freak with good aim. I'm a thief too, Lupin, and a damn good one, if I do say so myself. All of us--Fujiko, Goemon, and me--we're ALL good thieves. We're not just a useful rotation of tits, guns and swords, sitting around at your disposal. And I'm not about to let you cut me out of the picture just because I'm temporarily minus one gun."
Lupin sank against the counter, visibly deflated by the accusations leveled against him.
"Aw geez," he sighed, "I know that, man. I know that! And you're not going anywhere, that's for sure" He gave a small, hopeful chuckle. "You're not shaking me off that easy." Jigen's gaze warmed the tiniest bit; no longer steely, but still guarded.
"Just who're you trying to convince, here, Lupin?" Lupin stopped, mouth agape, until Jigen's words registered. Then Lupin's jaw clenched reflexively as his face boiled pink.
"Okay!" He shouted. "All right! So I made a decision in a hurry and I'm only now piecing my logic together. So sue me! Anyway, that doesn't mean it was a bad decision. Christ almighty," he said, flopping down into the kitchen chair, "I'm exhausted from defending myself on this." Lupin leaned back in the chair, one hand flung over his eyes.
After a few seconds of silence, Lupin began to peek between his fingers at his partner. Daisuke Jigen was staring into his empty glass, tapping soundlessly on the rim with two long, callused fingers. But the furious crease in his forehead had smoothed itself out. Crisis averted. Lupin exhaled and dropped his hand to his side. Jigen finished his inaudible rhythm and looked up.
"You think YOU'RE exhausted," he said, pointing to his sling. "Plus, Goemon's painkillers have got me doped up like a Connecticuit housewife. I'm goin' to bed before I pass out." He stood up and shuffled wearily--and a bit drunkenly--to the doorway, where he turned around and switched off the light. In the dark, he gave Lupin a wink and a smirk. "See you in the morning, kid."
Lupin smirked back. It might take a day or two before Jigen admitted it, but somewhere in that bearded head he'd reconciled himself to the new situation. He saluted his partner's retreating shadow with the remaining drops in his glass, and sang out the expected response.
"Only if you live that long, gramps!"
Author's Note: Yikes, guys. Sorry about the no-updates-forever. Mea culpa, mea culpa....My internet vanished, and I thought it would never return. But it did. So here goes.
Chapter 6: All Along the Watchtower
"No reason to get excited,"/ the thief he kindly spoke./ "There are many here among us/ who feel that Life is but a joke./ But you and I, we've been through that,/ and this is not our fate./ So let us not talk falsely, now,/ the hour's getting late"...
--Bob Dylan, "All Along The Watchtower"
Lupin watched through bleary eyes as the numbers flipped over on his bedside clock. 4:34 a.m. Oh good, he thought, grimacing. Only six hours until breakfast. With a muffled growl, he turned over and buried his face in the pillow. The earlier attempts to reassure Fujiko about Alex and the Winston job had exhausted his reserves of confidence; and now scenes from the night before had been running through his mind for nearly three hours, without a wink of sleep to blot them out.
He saw the empty cases opening up, one after another. He should have called a halt when he saw the first one. He heard the gunshots echoing from the front display room; why hadn't they done a quick sweep of the place before going in? They were stupid, cocky errors. Lesson learned, he supposed. He wouldn't leave himself open to surprises again.
But then...what had happened back there? He could rationalize it all he wanted, but when the red flags had gone up in the Winston vault, he'd frozen. And chivalry aside, where *had* his mind been when he found Alex? Lupin tossed and turned some more, then propped himself up on his elbows, staring into the dark room. He hadn't lied to Fujiko, exactly--he believed everything he'd said about professional courtesy, and about Alex's potential usefulness--but none of those things had been in his brain at the time. He'd brought a random variable into the group based solely on instinct, and that was reckless.
And yet. Reckless though it was, Lupin couldn't quite bring himself to consider it a mistake.
Lupin III never asked himself, even in the tightest of squeezes, what his grandfather would have done in his place. That wasn't his style. But every so often, he knew--even without asking.
"You're damn right, old man," he said to the darkness. "I DO need a drink."
***********************************************************************
Lupin padded barefoot into the kitchen, not bothering to put on the lights. The sparse moonlight seeping in through the blinds lit his way to the liquor cabinet, while his deft fingertips--a true thief's fingertips--told him vodka, vermouth, gin, sour mix, tequila, and lastly, the scotch he was seeking. He reached into the next cupboard for a glass, deliberated for a groggy moment on whether or not to get ice, decided against it, and began to pour.
"What'd I do, Lupin," said a surly voice just behind him, "hit the age limit?" Lupin started violently, spilling scotch onto the counter. He spun around, his hand frantically searching the wall for a light switch. Bright light filled the room.
"Christ, Jigen," Lupin gasped, clutching dramatically at his chest. "You scared the crap outta me."
"Hmph," Jigen snorted. He was draped over one of the kitchen chairs, his busted arm in a sling, the rest of him in a bathrobe. A half-empty scotch glass sat on the table in front of him, but his eyes met Lupin's with a cool, level gaze.
"What, you been lying in wait or something?!" Lupin whispered indignantly. He snatched a towel from the counter and began mopping up the spilled scotch. "What the hell's the matter with you?"
Jigen raised an eyebrow by way of reply.
"What, you mean Alex?"
"So I don't even get a say in this?" Jigen jerked an angry left thumb in the general direction of Alex's room. Lupin rubbed his forehead and picked up his glass. It was nearly empty--most of the scotch had spilled out. He reached behind him for the bottle and resumed pouring.
"Look, Jigen, it's not like that," he said. "You were unconscious. SHE was unconscious, for crying out loud. And don't forget, there was a *slight* time concern, too. Believe me, nobody got consulted."
"Seems like there was plenty of consultation once she woke up, though," Jigen sneered. "Seems like a guy better keep his eyes open around here."
"Not to be crude, Jigen," Lupin hissed, "but what the *fuck* are you talking about?"
"I'm trying to figure out, Lupin," Jigen hissed back, "why the *fuck* you felt the need to go behind my back and cut me out!"
"Cut you out?!" Lupin strained to keep his voice low, figuring that whatever this was turning into, there was no need to get the whole gang involved. "What, you get shot in the head and we didn't notice? What's WITH you, man?"
"What's with me," Jigen said slowly, "is that she shouldn't even be HERE, in the first place." He held up his hand to stop Lupin, who was opening his mouth to protest. "And yet, she's here, and somehow you've decided she'll do just fine in my place. What the HELL did I miss while I was out?"
"Aw lay off, man. It isn't like that, and you know it. Goemon and I were just trying to help out a person in need."
"If that's how you wanna rationalize it," Jigen said, taking a swig from his own glass, "fine. But I couldn't help noticing that this 'person in need' has a great pair of legs." He slammed the glass down, and gazed thoughtfully at it for a moment. When he spoke again, it was in a measured, mocking tone that Lupin recognized; it signalled Jigen at his most dangerous.
"What's the matter, Lupin," he asked, "finally had it with Fujiko? That's just what we need, another woman who can screw us all out of a fortune just because she's scr--"
"Watch it, Jigen," Lupin said warningly. He could feel Jigen backing off, but the bad vibes hadn't died out just yet.
"--fine, then. Let's say it's because she's got 'diplomatic immunity.'" Jigen's voice dripped with contempt. Lupin was shaking with rage.
"That's. Enough. Jigen."
"Harsh your buzz, did I?" Jigen shot back.
"Fuck you," Lupin said, turning away. "And you leave Fujiko out of this." Behind him, Jigen gave a short laugh. "I mean it. Like we've never screwed ourselves out of a fortune withOUT her help? You know there's no three- strike policy here. Someone botches a job, it's in the past."
"Fine. Fair enough." Lupin turned back around to face his long-time friend and partner. Somehow, even without his trademark hat and suit, Jigen cut a commanding figure; Lupin felt himself on his guard despite the bond between them. Jigen, for his part, felt he was staring at a complete stranger; someone who looked the part, but acted in unaccountable ways, made uncharacteristic decisions. Every cell in his body raged against feeling so duped.
For a moment the two men stood silently, each wondering if he needed to size up a new enemy. Finally, Lupin took a deep breath and spoke.
"OK," he said calmly. "Then let's quit beating around the damn bush." He crossed the kitchen floor and sat at the table, opposite the gunman. "Look. When we took Alex out of the Winston vault with us, the thought of taking her on--in ANY capacity--never even crossed my mind. It only occurred to me later, when Goemon told us how bad your injuries were. We gave her a little test-run. She's good, Jigen. Falls somewhere in-between me and you. And as much as I hate to face it, that right arm of yours is gonna be out of commission for a good long while now."
"Yeah," Jigen snapped, "thanks to HER guys!"
"'Her' guys? The ones who beat the living snot out of her and left her trussed up for the cops? Why do I feel like her loyalties just MIGHT have shifted a bit in our favor?"
"Well what the hell were they doing there in the first place, Lupin?"
"Damned if I know, Jigen! This is a competitive business, at any level. Sure, nobody but us has the guts to go after King Tut's mask. But all those lower-profile bank jobs and jewel heists? Hell, I'm surprised we don't bump into the competition more often! It's not like I can post a notice at the grocery store-- 'Attention thieves, Monday's job at Harry Winston is ours...thanks, Lupin & Co.' Maybe I'm enough of a gentleman to leave each thief his own, but I can't vouch for everyone else out there."
Lupin paused in his rant long enough to see if Jigen was softening. He wasn't. Fine, Lupin thought. He wants it all on the table, here goes.
"And because I can't vouch for everyone else, I like my right hand man to have his right hand."
"Oh, screw you," Jigen said coldly, slamming down his glass--and wincing in pain as he did so. "We both know I shoot better left-handed than YOU shoot righty, any day of the week." This wasn't exactly the reaction Lupin had been aiming for.
"You're right," he conceded. "But I'm more comfortable relying on BOTH your hands."
"Just the hands, huh? Figures." Lupin growled low in his throat, his face turning livid.
"Aw, JEEZ," he exploded, forgetting about the sleeping people. "Now what the hell is THAT supposed to mean?!" He leapt up from the table, tearing exasperatedly at his hair. Jigen remained seated, his voice still calm--but no longer dangerous. The gunman simply sounded disappointed.
"You just don't get it, do you, Lupin?"
"Get it?" Lupin replied wearily.
"Look. Clearly you haven't picked up on it, but I'm not just some freak with good aim. I'm a thief too, Lupin, and a damn good one, if I do say so myself. All of us--Fujiko, Goemon, and me--we're ALL good thieves. We're not just a useful rotation of tits, guns and swords, sitting around at your disposal. And I'm not about to let you cut me out of the picture just because I'm temporarily minus one gun."
Lupin sank against the counter, visibly deflated by the accusations leveled against him.
"Aw geez," he sighed, "I know that, man. I know that! And you're not going anywhere, that's for sure" He gave a small, hopeful chuckle. "You're not shaking me off that easy." Jigen's gaze warmed the tiniest bit; no longer steely, but still guarded.
"Just who're you trying to convince, here, Lupin?" Lupin stopped, mouth agape, until Jigen's words registered. Then Lupin's jaw clenched reflexively as his face boiled pink.
"Okay!" He shouted. "All right! So I made a decision in a hurry and I'm only now piecing my logic together. So sue me! Anyway, that doesn't mean it was a bad decision. Christ almighty," he said, flopping down into the kitchen chair, "I'm exhausted from defending myself on this." Lupin leaned back in the chair, one hand flung over his eyes.
After a few seconds of silence, Lupin began to peek between his fingers at his partner. Daisuke Jigen was staring into his empty glass, tapping soundlessly on the rim with two long, callused fingers. But the furious crease in his forehead had smoothed itself out. Crisis averted. Lupin exhaled and dropped his hand to his side. Jigen finished his inaudible rhythm and looked up.
"You think YOU'RE exhausted," he said, pointing to his sling. "Plus, Goemon's painkillers have got me doped up like a Connecticuit housewife. I'm goin' to bed before I pass out." He stood up and shuffled wearily--and a bit drunkenly--to the doorway, where he turned around and switched off the light. In the dark, he gave Lupin a wink and a smirk. "See you in the morning, kid."
Lupin smirked back. It might take a day or two before Jigen admitted it, but somewhere in that bearded head he'd reconciled himself to the new situation. He saluted his partner's retreating shadow with the remaining drops in his glass, and sang out the expected response.
"Only if you live that long, gramps!"
