Rating: PG-13, still…

Summary: Hee. Meatwad just got a clown tattoo…oh, uh sorry.  Um.  Fluff fest.  Back to watching Mooninites.

A.N.  Yeah, time warp.  I realized I had forgotten a few days in between, and I really didn't have anything to add of importance, so I just kept it the way it was.  Lord, I'm tired.

Yuna of Paradise:  I just kinda thought Amon would smoke. I thought he'd be a little more sexy than he already is he.  I just finished checking the story... I couldn't find a character named Peace that snuck in there somehow.  No, Dan was Amon's neighbor when he was a child.  Robin's alias is 'Hope'.

punkchick16:  Thank you for understanding…I'm sorry your vacation wasn't fun…read this chap and may it give you fuzzies.

Beautiful Witch Hunter Robin:  This good?  Hee.

Indirockqueen:  (looks around nervously) Umm, what mistake?!?!?  Just kidding.  I fixed it.  Thank you..  I love Amon when he's broodish.  Then again, actors like Hugh Jackman and Johny Depp, when broodish, make me go HEEEEEEE.

The Cowboy Beboper:  Cool show btw, thank you.  I like secrets.  Secrets are cool.  I have a lot.  Like auditioning for a role on Sesame Street when I was really little and still modeling.  Shit, I said that outloud.

Chapter 6: Don't Explain

Hush now, don't explain
Just say you'll remain
Unless you're mad, don't explain

My love, don't explain
What is there to gain
Skip that lipstick
Don't explain

You know that I love you
And what loving does
All my thoughts are real
For I'm so completely yours

Try to hear folks chatter
And I know you cheat
Right or wrong, don't matter
When you're with me, sweet

Hush now, don't explain
You're my love and pain
My life's your love
Don't explain

            Nagira opened the box and inhaled.

            Cigars were reserved, by Nagira's general rule, for celebrations after a case won well.  They were five times better than cigarettes and at least twenty times more expensive if actually good ones.

            This was not one of those celebrations.  This was panic and lack of cigarettes.

            The phone had rung, and, looking up from his notes from in court and seeing no one there, he picked it up.

            "This is the office of Nagira Syunji."

            "Hello, could I please speak to Nagira?  This is important," the person had said nervously, in slightly accented Japanese.

            "This is he.  How can I help you?"

            "I…I'm a friend of Amon's."

            Nagira sat up straight.  "I never kept close with him."

            "I used to work with him…and I know he's alive."

            "Like I said, I-"

            The door opened and in came a young, redheaded man with a cell phone to his ear, upon seeing Nagira, he shut it and Nagira heard the call end on his phone. 

            "I'm Michael Lee."

            Nagira nodded.  "I remember Robin telling me about you…God, I miss that girl."  He was lawyer, so he hoped his look of sadness passed, since he lied more times than he could count in a day.  Michael only blushed and fumbled with the zipper on his laptop case.  "I thought that you couldn't leave the building."

            Michael seemed to be distracted for a moment.  "After everything with the factory, well…I'm allowed out.  You can keep saying she's not alive, but I know for a fact that she's alive."

            "How's that?"

            "I did research.  Found out Amon owned a place in Ireland.  I called a few places there.  They'd never heard of a Robin Sena, but they did know of an Amon and he had a young wife with him…I know it's a front.

            "I haven't told anyone at STNJ about it.  I'm not planning on it.  But-but just let them know I'm trying my best to cover up for them.  They're on the list as missing, and in a few weeks, Robin will be placed on the dead witch list."

            Nagira said nothing, and Michael understood.  He started out the door, but stopped and turned.   "Just tell Robin I said 'hello', next time you talk to them."

            The door shut and Nagira was left to exhale and slump forward in his seat, banging his head on the desk's surface out of frustration.

            So he now was furiously puffing away at a cigar, his hand reaching for his cell phone.  Amon had a beeper.  It was the only way to get a hold of him.  It was listed as 'John Faber'.  He dialed the number as quickly as possible.

            Amon's eyes shot open as something nearby moved.  It was the pager.

            With a quick hand, surprising even himself for having just woken up, he picked it up before having it fall off the surface of the bedside table.  The screen on the side glowed and the digital screen showed a series of 4s on the screen-five, to be exact.  That was Nagira's sign to call him.

            He slipped downstairs and picked up the cell phone he had purchased earlier this week.  It was disposable, and, registered under a false name, it was perfectly safe to use for calls.

            "Hello?" came his brother's voice.

            "This is John Faber."

            There was a crackle as Nagira sighed.  "Thank God.  Michael came by.  Michael Lee."

            "Well, if the police knew you were my brother, STN-J was sure to know."

            "No, Amon, they already visited here."  Amon's stomach tightened, waiting for his brother to continue.  Instead, he had to continue the conversation.

            "So they finally rewarded him for his work.  Good.  What did he ask?"

            "That I tell you two that he's not going to tell them that he called some stores in your town and found out you were there with Robin…he's going to try to keep STN-J off you trail as much as possible.  Amon, I think you two should leave in a few days or something.  If she li-"

            Amon gritted his teeth.  "She and I will leave in a few days.  We'll figure something out.  I have to go…by the way, Merry Christmas Eve."

            "Didn't even realize it," his brother laughed, a bark-like sound.

            "It's time to lay off the smokes, brother."

            "Not until you pull the stick out of your ass.  Have a fun few days…" The line went dead.

            He'd have to be careful until they left.  Whom they made contact with now seemed to be a suicidal choice, regardless of whom.  They'd have to stay out of town for the next few days.  He'd go to the city, if things were required.

            He should probably wake her up, to tell her what had happened.  She deserved at least that much, especially today.

            Without his consent, his thoughts drifted back to the other night.  She had been anxious since.

            Her lips were so soft.

            He stopped, midway up the steps.  This line of thinking…was inappropriate.  She was young, inexperienced in the ways of the world, and deserved much, much more than him.

            But his vision…

            It could have been a dream, he now told himself, as he continued upward, in desperate need of a shower, as if it would help to rid his self of the thoughts that now seemed to plague every moment he was awake.  Three days of awkwardness had been grating on his nerves.

            Her door was closed, and he took this as a sign that she didn't wish to be disturbed.  He showered and shaved quickly.

            Tomorrow was Christmas, he told himself bleakly as he slipped a t-shirt on and then his holster.  His hand sought out a sweater to put on over everything, and when it came out of the drawer with the one that Robin had just recently borrowed after a particularly blustery and wet walk home, he decided he might as well wake her up and wish her Christmas Eve at least, if not tell her of Nagira's encounter.

            "Robin, can I come in?"

            There was no answer.

            He turned the doorknob slowly, making sure he didn't hear a gasp of surprise before fully opening it.  He started to wish her good morning.

            She wasn't in her room.

            "Fuck."

             First of all, she simply couldn't face him this morning.  Second, she had less than a day to purchase his Christmas present, and she'd known exactly what she had wanted, and known the town would not have it.

            They would have to be the justification for climbing out the window on Christmas Eve.

            Now, with the small present now in her pocket, she trudged along the sidewalk, hair in a ponytail, sunglasses on, she let herself enjoy the instrumental versions of Christmas music.

            Her even being in town was a large risk.  Not only because there could be hunters anywhere, since the abbey in which they trained was near by, but also because she would have to face the wrath of Amon when she got home.

            Hell hath no fury like Amon ignored.

            He'd probably be a little nicer than usual, what with how her birthday was the next day and the prophecy…

            Automatically, she felt the thought be squashed out.  She had trained herself to do so every time she thought of the parchment that lay on her paper, she would think of something else.

            A few children ran past, their parents close behind.  She let herself smile.

            The computer store across the way caught her eye, a large, yellow banner declaring a sale on laptops seeming to almost yell at her.  She certainly had enough money, and Amon being such a technophile…

            She crossed the street.

            Amon had checked the surrounding area, the entire property, and the roads near by.  No sign of her.

            He had said every curse that he could think of in every language he knew, and had started the process for a second time as he had stepped out of the car.  He quickly walked into Dan's store.

            The woman from the other night stood at the counter, typing something on the computer behind it.  She looked up.

            "Hello, how can I help you?"

            "Have you seen a young woman about 5" 2', blonde haired?  Her name's Hope."

            She shook her head.  "I know who she is.  She's probably out buying a present for you or something.  Relax."

            It had the exact opposite effect on him.  E felt his eye twitch and hoped it wasn't too obvious.  "Thank you for your time."

            He exited and got back into his car.  He was settling into his attitude before battle.

            Robin walked into the train station, now laden with the laptop package.  Changing in the room, she took a moment to survey the disguise.

            It was a black wig, short, and a thick blue sweater.  She'd always loved dressing up.

            Hoisting the package, she made her way to the platform, and onward to home.

            Half an hour later, she slipped through the window and into bed.  The trip had been exhausting, since she'd been alone, and left to fend herself.  Sleep took over too soon.

            Amon took off the sweater, now in his room.  He put on a different holster, and placed as many firearms as possible in the holders.  He knew the abbey was near.  That was where they held her.

            He would not let her die.  As long as there was the possibility she was alive, he'd keep fighting.  If not…           

            He could not think of 'if not'.        

            There was a thud in the other room.

            With every sense tingling, he crept into the hallway.  The door was open.  Slowly, inching his way along the wall, he made his way to the threshold.

            A dark haired woman lay on Robin's bed, Curled to onside.  He moved closer.

            Why would they send a Hunter to sleep on her bed?

            Gun ahead, safety long since off, he made his way past a box on the floor and looked down at the woman in the bed.

            It was Robin, with a dark wig halfway off.

            He couldn't help it.  His legs gave out and he sat on the bed, and did something he hadn't done since he was very young.

            He started to cry.

            Robin opened her eyes sleepily.  The bed had moved.  It now sagged a little more than usual to the right side.

            The dark form she knew as Amon sat hunched over on, his gun now slipped from his hand and his shoulders jerked up and down.

            He was crying.

            Robin sat up and looked around, then back in amazement at Amon.  She touched his hand.

            His head jerked up, and his eyes wildly searched hers, and then he grabbed her.

            In an instant, she was in a tight embrace, his sobs racking her own body.

            He must have realized she was gone.  He had thought something had happened.  It was her fault he was now…

            "I-I didn't mean-"

            "Don't do that to me," he said, his voice cracking.  His arms tightened.  "Don't ever do that again.  Don't ever…I thought…Promise me."

            A tear slipped down her own cheek.  "I promise."

            She slipped a tentative hand upward, and brushed a tear from his cheek.  She had only been this brave once or this close, a few days before.

            Amon took her hand, and loosened his grip on her waist slightly.

            "The other day-in town," Robin looked down for a moment.  "You didn't-"

            Her eyes met his, and she knew he heard her thoughts.  He searched her face for any signs of not wanting what came next before bringing his lips to hers. 

            Amon, she had known, had been cursing himself for kissing her the other day.  He had blamed it on his drunkenness.  What he didn't know, however, was that he hadn't kissed her.

            She kissed him.

            Her audacity had surprised even herself. 

            Now, in his arms, their lips just delicately meeting, she knew she'd somehow been rewarded.

            Their kiss deepened.  Her arms found their way around his neck instinctively, pulling him closer to herself.  Finally, they parted. 

            Amon's hand cupped her cheek, brushing her lips, and it moved down to her neck.  She could feel a brush creep across her cheeks.  His hand finally took the pendant around her neck and held it up.

            "I have something I need to tell you," he said quietly.  She smiled.

            "I know."  The two words expressed so much as she reached below his neckline and found the leather cord.  She followed it around to the front and with a slight tug, the scarlet stone, with the thin gold cross holding it to the string now rested on his chest.  "It's taken a few week to find you here in Ireland," she said with a smile, "I was afraid you wouldn't remember me."

            "How could I forget," he set, giving her another kiss and her eyes fluttered shut, "when we belong to each other."