Black Coffee
Part Two: Morning Song
Summary: "Human voices wake us, and we drown."
Rating: PG-13
A/N: I've never written dialogue. I've never written Karasuma from outside her head. I've never even tried to get inside Amon's head. I rarely write third person. In other words, I need your help with this!
He was used to waking up in strange beds. All those hotel rooms, night after
night – hell, it wasn't as if he slept much, anyway. None of those hotel rooms,
however, had white all-cotton sheets and a bonsai on the windowsill. None of
them had a rosary half- hidden among the litter of cell phone, alarm clock,
water glass on the nightstand. None of them smelled, ever so faintly, of
sandalwood. And coffee.
The bedside clock read four-thirty, but she was already up. The sheets on her
side of the bed had been smoothed out, her pillow placed precisely, and the
beige coverlet neatened. How very like her.
She was sitting on the sofa when he entered her tiny living room. Amon paused a
moment to observe his former coworker and present ally, the almost-friend whom
he had used, last night, as means to oblivion. She was so like and yet unlike
Robin … No. He was not going to go down that road. If he was going to
burn … let it not be for this.
She had paused to put on a robe – ankle-length, in light blue cotton. Her eyes
were unfocused, almost dazed, and her hair was tousled. He remembered sliding
his fingers through it, pausing to inhale the scent of her shampoo. Both feet –
long and narrow, with unpainted toenails – were on the couch, and those
all-too-perceptive hands of hers were wrapped firmly around a mug of coffee.
Why had he done it? Amon had always respected Karasuma; she was level-headed,
intelligent, and a very capable Hunter. They shared the same ability to submerge
themselves in Hunting. Did she share his former motivations? Before last night,
he might have tried to find out – for safety's sake. Now, he knew he would not.
No more than a breath of time later, she turned to look at him. She had always
had that talent: a nearly uncanny ability to sense another's presence. He had
often found it useful in the past.
"There's coffee …" She gestured awkwardly toward the kitchen,
obviously uneasy. Wordlessly, he found a mug and filled it. He crossed the room
again and sat down next to her. Not too near. Her shoulders straightened a bit,
as if she were slipping her mask back on. Oddly, he wanted to stop that, to
keep her here. With him. Dangerous ground.
Any sentence would do, but the first thing that came out of his mouth was,
"Did you scry me last night?"
Obviously, she had not expected that, but her face remained composed. "No.
I thought … you wouldn't appreciate it." A pause. "And I never do,
during …" Deep breath. Her eyes were fixed on his face. "I didn't
want to know – who you were thinking about."
Well, that was to be expected. Karasuma had always expressed her thoughts
rather than her emotions. Last night, he had seen her observing him, storing
data, while her hands were roaming his body. Sex brought him oblivion; it
seemed that it only gave her more food for thought, for the mental picture of
him that he knew she was building. Amon wondered where the pieces of him she
had gathered last night fit.
"Is she all right?" Damn the woman, she saw too much. And he couldn't
lie to her. After using her like he had, she deserved honesty from him, at the
very least.
"Yes." The words came more quickly, almost against his will.
"Juliano cares for her. He believes in her; he will protect her."
"We all care for her. And Amon …" Karasuma's eyes were very clear,
and she had moved closer to him. "Robin trusts you. She believes in
you." Another pause. "So do I."
Almost against his will, his hand came up to brush her cheekbone.
"Arigato, Karasuma."
Her laugh was a bit shaky. "Miho."
