Author's Note: Hey everybody! I thank you guys for all your support! So here's another little chapter :p. Hehe, remember the dream Trish mentioned in the previous chapters (I forget which)? Here's the description of it.

Oh, if anyone doesn't quite get what Dante and Trish are talking about here, please don't hesitate to contact me at my e-mail. I had to make this chapter sound as though they were thinking the same thing, on the same track of mind, so I kinda made them interrupt each other as ideas flowed in.

Welcome, Scarbie and Magnificent Kiwi! I hope I've been living up to your tastes ;).

Hopefully, people will enjoy this chapter. Oh yes, a bit o' swearing here...

DMC's Capcom's.

CHAPTER 11: CONNECTION

The skin thing really bothered Dante. Where had it come from? And he wasn't even sure if it was skin. The flesh-coloured lining seemed to melt away before his eyes. It did not produce any heat, or even smoke; it just seemed to dissipate.

He looked up into the chipped, yellow mirror of the bathroom he had frantically ran into. (There were things that freaked Dante out; but he only displayed them when nobody was around to see him). He scrubbed his lips and hands thoroughly with soap, then rubbing alcohol, to kill any microscopic specimens. An involuntary shudder ran down his spine.

Skin! Where had it come from? How come he didn't notice it until after---after he---

Trish!

Dante immediately ran to Trish's room.

Trish was floating in nothingness. She saw a dazzling light, and a burst of white feathers fell gently from above her, encasing her body, tickling her, giving her strength.

But this strength she felt…

She did not like it. It felt dark. Horribly dark. She shuddered violently in revulsion, and thrashed in the air, refusing to be in contact with them any longer.

"No!" She choked. "No, please! I do not want it."

The feathers, as if sensing her resistance, suddenly transformed into stone. They had uneven, jagged edges, and each slowly turned their sharpest edges to her, aiming for her heart…

"I do not want it! I do not want it!" It was all Trish could say, over and over, chanting the words as if they were protective sacred prayers. She raised her hands defensively to protect herself, just as the yellowish stone feathers began their descent. No, her defensive posture was futile: the stones would rip through her hands, and slash her up. One crystal tear squeezed out from each eye.

The tears, amazingly, floated away from her face. They levitated in the air, spinning, spinning, until the small tiny orbs released another light, this one so pure and white. There was no sound at all, curiously mute, as the white light enveloped the feathers. They were shattered into many, many small pieces. And still no sound.

Trish felt her feet touch ground the instant the feathers splintered. At the same time, almost instantly, she felt her energy give out, and she collapsed on the floor.

"H-hey!"

Trish tried to get up. Instead, her limbs would not respond. She felt oddly sleepy. She felt her strength further ebb out with each beat of her heart, which it itself was beating slower and slower. It was then she realized that the feathers were supporting her life. Now that they were gone, she had no chance of living…

Something red moved in her blurred line of vision. Two gloved hands casually scooped her up, sharing their warmth with her, placing her into equally warm and strong arms.

But despite this new source of strength, she could not carry on any longer…she felt herself shrinking…

A tingling. She forced her eyes to focus on herself. It was then she realized that no, she was not shrinking; instead, she was melting. She saw her skin peel away slowly, and dissipate into the air without a trace. There was no pain; only a slight warmth from where the arms held her.

Trish sighed. Those strong, toned arms. If she could die in these arms, she would remain happy forever. Her eyes closed. She was prepared to die.

A gruff male voice. "No way in hell are you gonna give up yet, Trish! There's so much we can do together..."

Trish felt herself being put back to the hard, cold ground, the human hands realeasing their hold on her. A sound of skin ripping.

Her eyes peered open just as a flood of red splash onto her face. Her mouth opened instinctively, and the thick crimson liquid filled her mouth. It was sweet…so sweet. And rich.. and tart. Oh god…the delicious nectar of life…she swallowed. Her whole body seemed to vibrate with each luscious swallow, eager for more. Her eyes closed in ecstasy, and power surged through every vein in her body.

The woman's body arched uncontrollably, and the tingling subsided. What great power…

"Trish…"

Her eyes opened slowly…

Trish! Look at me, now," the male voice, now gruff with relief, commanded her.

She looked…

…Right into the face of Dante. "Oh!" she squeaked, surprised. Initial surprise changed to anger. "What in the Underworld are you doing here?" she furiously asked, embarrassed of the formidable man being in her room.

"Trish, thank god, I thought you'd never wake up. I called your name so many times…" Dante's voice trailed off.

It was then Trish saw that he was truly concerned. His hair was boyishly disheveled, and on the floor, his boots had made black skid marks. "Dante, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong?! How could you not have noticed it?" Dante's sudden outburst was startling, and while the female devil was stunned, he grabbed, desperately, but gently, both her wrists. "How could you have not? Damn…"

Trish saw that the skin on her wrists was peeling off, despite Dante's careful touch. Her blue eyes widened. "Holy shit…"

…No, she was not shrinking; instead, she was melting. She saw her skin peel away slowly, and dissipate into the air without a trace.

The memory of her dream flashed briefly through her mind, burning a hole. "Oh my god…"

"I'm gonna look through mom and dad's library," Dante announced. "There has to be a way to stop your … your condition."

"Wait, Dante!" Trish was suddenly desperate to tell him of her nightly dream. It must play a key aspect in this situatiojn, due to the uncanny resemblance with her state. Suddenly, the events all became clear to her. "I have a dream to tell you."

After a detailed summary, Dante had to ask her, "So you've been having this dream ever since three months ago?" A nod. "First, you didn't dream of it often, but later on, it became more frequent?" Another nod, this time more timid, because of the slight rise in Dante's voice.

"But Dante, in the dreams before, I only dreamed I was melting. And the voice." Trish stopped to think. "I've never had the part where I was falling, or the feathers, or when I was… crying."

Dante looked deep into her eyes. "Trish, do you think---?"

Trish nodded. "It makes complete sense. The stone feathers, supplying me with the evil strength …"

"Mundus." Dante reminiscenced the fight he had with the godly tyrant, of his magnificent feathers made of stone. "His evil…in the form of feathers."

"And when I refused to accept his power---"

"He turned against you. And those two tears…" Dante smiled. "Trish, you know devils never cry."

Silence. Trish's only answer was a dry grin.

Dante continued, "You betrayed him with those tears, and freed yourself. It's official, now, Trish. You're no longer under the power of Mundus."

"Then that explains the m-melting…I was created by him, and depended on him to power my life. Now that he's gone through your portal, his power is so removed from me… Dante, I---" Trish struggled with the words. She could not say anymore. "There's no hope…" She dragged her legs up to her chin, and curled her arms around them. Her arms now glistened red, from the lack of skin. Her eyes shut tight, refusing to see the horror she was transforming into.

"No way. Don't ever talk like that, Trish." Dante's ice blue eyes went steely. "I have an idea from the last part in your dream. And I'm going to make good use of it. Don't move. I think, in a situation like this, only white magic is capable of helping you."

The demon hunter got up from the be, and cooly pushed back sliver locks. "Don't worry about this stuff." He offered her a grin, though his own heart was weighed down with concern. Would his mother's books be able to help him save the only person who mattered to him now?

Trish looked up. She was surprised when Dante bent down again. He gently wiped tears off her cheek, tears she didn't even know she was making.

Dante leaped up again, and dashed to the door frame. Before he turned and left, he repeated: "Devils never cry." The halfling smirked. "I think it's time we made that saying concrete."