Disclaimer: Not mine. Ect.
Sorry it took me so long to update. My computer died a horrible, sudden death. It was sad.
Asleep, still. He drew a finger lightly across her jawbone, down her neck to where the smooth curve of her collarbone waited to shiver under his touch. Nearly three months now, three months of doing more than simply occupying the space in her bed. Their bed, he reminded himself, their bed. Three months of being married to Akane, and he was still alive. And relatively unbruised. The bruises he did have. . . a series of bite marks and scratches all over his shoulders and back. . . . he hadn't really minded getting those. Not at all.
After three months, he was beginning to know her an a whole different level. To know what will make her shiver, and what will make her moan, what will bring her to a lifeless, gasping halt in his arms. And she was learning the same things about him. Gods, but he'd never known his body could do some of those things! Could feel some of those things. . . but it wasn't even really the bodily sensations that shocked him the most. It was the warmth that spread through his chest when she kissed him now, a promise of later diversions, and the overwhelming sensation of coming home that those diversions brought. Home. He'd attached the meaning of the word to her strong, slender hands and deep brown eyes.
Which was why, huddled in a thin canvas tent in a deserted forest somewhere in the wilds of China, he felt secure. Safe. More at peace and at home than he had since he was very, very young. He hadn't even missed the sensation, as used as he was to wandering and the unstable promises of his father. But now. . . traveling with just Akane. . .
"Mnnnrffle dmmmfltum," she announced, stretching languorously. He smiled, amused, as she arched her back and then stopped, surprised not to feel him near her.
"Morning," he said, in a tone appropriately wretched to the hour. She cracked an eye open and grunted, satisfied that he was near, just in front of her and sitting. "Come on, little ragamuffin, you're going to sleep the day away," he admonished. She opened her eyes to glare at him then. It was true enough, she did look like a ragamuffin. Without the benefit of bathtubs, mirrors, or more than one change of clothes, she was dirty, tussled, and none too malleable. But then, he was in much the same state. And the newness of being able to see her without clothes had greatly diminished the importance of the clothes themselves in his mind.
"Bah," she said stiffly, rolling into a sitting position. She stretched again, and rustled around in her pack for a bit, drawing out a bruised apple and taking a bite. They were scavenging for most of their food, now, mostly living off the trail. . . and the farms adjacent to the trail. He busied himself with rolling up the sleeping mats and blankets, carefully stowing them with the packs. There was a particularly bad bruise just at the base of his neck, and it hurt every time he moved his arm. He'd have to pay her back for that one. In kind.
"The way I see it," Akane said suddenly, breaking the silence, "this is really sort of a honeymoon. More so than that silly trip our dads arranged when they thought we first got married. And it is sweet, in its own way," she shot him a meaningful glance, "and private."
"You're right," he mused, shrugging the thought off. Honeymoon or journey towards revenge, a rose by any other name and all that. He crawled a foot or so towards her, closing the distance between them. She pulled him to her, gently brushing his lips with her own. Her hand lingered on his cheek, caressing the smooth planes created by the underlying bones. Smiling, he took her hand in his own and kissed her knuckles gently.
"We have a long way to go today," he said reluctantly, and left her alone in the tent.
------------------------
Akane sat frowning at the little pill box. It contained about six more small oval tablets than it should, and that worried her. The pills inside were the birth control pills Kasumi had insisted she get, forever and a day ago when she and Ranma had faked their elopement. Her idea was that while her sister might be old enough to be a wife, SHE wasn't old enough to be an aunt. She'd taken the pills faithfully every day since she got them, knowing they'd take three months to take effect and unsure where she'd be by that time. At least, she thought she'd taken them every day. Perhaps she'd accidentally brought more with her than she thought? No . . . it was entirely possible that she had completely forgotten to take her pills at some point during the three weeks she'd spent in China. The question was, did she forget them all in a row? If it was just a few scattered days it would be all right, but in a row. . .
"Akane?" Ranma asked behind her. She turned from the rock she'd been sitting on to see him smiling, holding both packs, and apparently held hostage by a girl with a rather dangerous looking saber. Akane knew he could beat the girl. . . but she had a sneaking suspicion. . .
"It appears we're closer to the Amazon village than we thought we were," he informed her, his tone insultingly casual.
----------------------
"You two have less sense than most vegetables," Cologne fumed, pacing back and forth. Ranma and Akane, sitting in her hut away from the curious, accusatory glares of the rest of the tribe, absorbed this insult without comment.
"You are just incredibly fortunate that I saw you before you told them your name," she continued.
"But Shampoo's married, right? And I'm married, and the girl me is. . . dead, and so what could they do?" Ranma interrupted. Cologne fixed him with a gimlet eye.
"They can beat the hell out of you on general principle. Shampoo was a popular girl, and you have effectively ruined her life. Married to a man she can't stand the sight of. . ."
"Still?" Akane gasped, dismayed. She'd thought for sure that Mousse would be able to win the stubborn Amazon over.
"Still," Cologne sighed, suddenly seeming weary. She shook her head and turned to Ranma, most traces of anger lost in the fatigue that washed her features.
"Why have you come here?" she asked. Ranma straightened his back.
"Mousse beat me, more than a year ago. I came to see if I could even the score," he explained, completely ignoring the fact that Mousse's victory couldn't outweigh the countless times he'd lost to Ranma.
"So he was telling the truth. Huh," Cologne mused. She glared at Akane. "And you?"
"You don't think I was going to let him leave me behind!" Akane replied hotly. Cologne glared at her.
"Fool. Amazon law is a lot different than your law. In Japan, the legality of a marriage is enough. Here, until the woman is pregnant the marriage can be voided," she announced. The blood drained from Akane's face.
"You mean. . ."
"That's right, child. All bets are off. Now that you're here, Shampoo will try to void her marriage to Mousse," she glared at Ranma, "by somehow winning you."
"She can't win me over," Ranma scoffed, with a glance at Akane.
"I didn't say win you over. I said win you. Like a prize. Unless you're expecting, Akane, I believe Shampoo will try to kill you."
----------------------
They slept in Cologne's hut that night, dozing fitfully, waiting for Shampoo's footsteps to sound at the door. Ranma felt trapped. The way Cologne had explained it to them, if he fought Shampoo again and won, she could again make a claim on him. . . provided neither she nor Akane was pregnant. According to the old ghoul, Shampoo kept Mousse from her bed with a variety of potions and sharp implements, so that was out. And Akane had been taking birth control pills since long before they'd consummated their marriage.
If he lost to her, he automatically had lower status in the tribe and could not officially challenge Mousse, who was presumably strong enough to beat her. It all seemed ridiculous to him, but the end of it was that he couldn't fight Shampoo. Which meant, WHEN the purple-haired girl came for them (which Cologne assured them she would) Akane would have to fight her. He wasn't absolutely sure Akane could beat her. And he'd be damned if he'd stand by and watch Shampoo try to kill Akane. His guts wrenched at the very thought.
Which left him with one final option. Find Mousse, beat him, and get the hell back on the road before Shampoo knew they were in her village. If Mousse could be either knocked out or convinced not to tell her. . . there was a chance. The old ghoul seemed to be on their side, in a limited sense. She was tired of the stubborn refusal of her granddaughter to accept her fate. She was tired of the wall-wreaking and sullen silences. Most of all, she was tired of the other elders looking at her as though she were a failure. She would not have Shampoo disgrace herself further.
So.
As soon as Akane's breathing got more regular, he kissed her forehead and rose to his feet. The old ghoul was lying on her side, at the other side of the small hut. Drool was dribbling out of her wrinkled mouth.
"Cologne," he said, quietly. She rolled to her feet, instantly awake and none too happy about it. Centuries of battle training had done it do her. She could hardly sleep anymore, she was always jolting awake at some tiny sound. But her name. . . that was not such an insignificant sound.
"This better be worth it," she mumbled, glowering at him. He explained the idea to her, briefly, asking how to find Mousse and other such necessary things. Cologne answered his questions with a speculative glare, tapping her fingers impatiently on her leg.
"And Akane?" she asked at last, narrowing her eyes to slits as she regarded him. He took a bracing breath.
"I leave her in your care. If Shampoo finds out she's here before I get back. . ." he frowned, wondering just what he could ask of the old ghoul.
"Oh, I can see to my granddaughter easily enough. But if she challenges Akane openly instead of simply going in for the kill, there is little I can do. Or rather, little I am willing to do. The only way I will intervene is if Akane is carrying a child—one of our most sacred laws prohibits the killing of a pregnant woman, challenge or no." She smiled wryly at Ranma. "I assume you have taken precautions against such a thing?"
He nodded numbly. A quick, secret fight still seemed to him to be the only good option, but it was losing its appeal all the time. Perhaps they should just go home. But then. . . their trip would have been in vain. More importantly, for the rest of his life he would see the new cursed form of Mousse behind his eyelids, jeering at him. He couldn't just leave when he was so close.
"Please hide her, then," he asked, and slipped out the door into the night. Cologne watched him go with a sinking feeling. She knew that if the events of the night and dawn didn't go well, there would be more deaths than just Akane's. She shook her head to clear it of the images of suicide and murder that filled it. If Akane died, and Ranma once more became the property of Shampoo. . . remembering the tale of Saffron's defeat, and Mousse's quiet revelation of the moments in which Akane's live was in peril. . . she was not so sure Ranma would take it philosophically. In fact, she was reasonably sure copious amounts of blood would be involved in the aftermath. And decaying flesh.
"Too bloody macabre," she muttered to herself. With a last speculative glance at the figure curled ont eh floor of her hut, she too disappeared into the night. On the off chance that their "precautions" had failed, she wanted to be sure Akane was not with child. In order to do that, there were a few things she needed to fetch.
As she bounced through the village, using her staff like a pogo stick, she passed the hut Mousse shared with Shampoo. She noted with a nod of satisfaction the two shadows sneaking away from it. What she didn't notice was the pale face of a purple-haired woman, staring at the two shadows with an expression of shock.
Sorry it took me so long to update. My computer died a horrible, sudden death. It was sad.
Asleep, still. He drew a finger lightly across her jawbone, down her neck to where the smooth curve of her collarbone waited to shiver under his touch. Nearly three months now, three months of doing more than simply occupying the space in her bed. Their bed, he reminded himself, their bed. Three months of being married to Akane, and he was still alive. And relatively unbruised. The bruises he did have. . . a series of bite marks and scratches all over his shoulders and back. . . . he hadn't really minded getting those. Not at all.
After three months, he was beginning to know her an a whole different level. To know what will make her shiver, and what will make her moan, what will bring her to a lifeless, gasping halt in his arms. And she was learning the same things about him. Gods, but he'd never known his body could do some of those things! Could feel some of those things. . . but it wasn't even really the bodily sensations that shocked him the most. It was the warmth that spread through his chest when she kissed him now, a promise of later diversions, and the overwhelming sensation of coming home that those diversions brought. Home. He'd attached the meaning of the word to her strong, slender hands and deep brown eyes.
Which was why, huddled in a thin canvas tent in a deserted forest somewhere in the wilds of China, he felt secure. Safe. More at peace and at home than he had since he was very, very young. He hadn't even missed the sensation, as used as he was to wandering and the unstable promises of his father. But now. . . traveling with just Akane. . .
"Mnnnrffle dmmmfltum," she announced, stretching languorously. He smiled, amused, as she arched her back and then stopped, surprised not to feel him near her.
"Morning," he said, in a tone appropriately wretched to the hour. She cracked an eye open and grunted, satisfied that he was near, just in front of her and sitting. "Come on, little ragamuffin, you're going to sleep the day away," he admonished. She opened her eyes to glare at him then. It was true enough, she did look like a ragamuffin. Without the benefit of bathtubs, mirrors, or more than one change of clothes, she was dirty, tussled, and none too malleable. But then, he was in much the same state. And the newness of being able to see her without clothes had greatly diminished the importance of the clothes themselves in his mind.
"Bah," she said stiffly, rolling into a sitting position. She stretched again, and rustled around in her pack for a bit, drawing out a bruised apple and taking a bite. They were scavenging for most of their food, now, mostly living off the trail. . . and the farms adjacent to the trail. He busied himself with rolling up the sleeping mats and blankets, carefully stowing them with the packs. There was a particularly bad bruise just at the base of his neck, and it hurt every time he moved his arm. He'd have to pay her back for that one. In kind.
"The way I see it," Akane said suddenly, breaking the silence, "this is really sort of a honeymoon. More so than that silly trip our dads arranged when they thought we first got married. And it is sweet, in its own way," she shot him a meaningful glance, "and private."
"You're right," he mused, shrugging the thought off. Honeymoon or journey towards revenge, a rose by any other name and all that. He crawled a foot or so towards her, closing the distance between them. She pulled him to her, gently brushing his lips with her own. Her hand lingered on his cheek, caressing the smooth planes created by the underlying bones. Smiling, he took her hand in his own and kissed her knuckles gently.
"We have a long way to go today," he said reluctantly, and left her alone in the tent.
------------------------
Akane sat frowning at the little pill box. It contained about six more small oval tablets than it should, and that worried her. The pills inside were the birth control pills Kasumi had insisted she get, forever and a day ago when she and Ranma had faked their elopement. Her idea was that while her sister might be old enough to be a wife, SHE wasn't old enough to be an aunt. She'd taken the pills faithfully every day since she got them, knowing they'd take three months to take effect and unsure where she'd be by that time. At least, she thought she'd taken them every day. Perhaps she'd accidentally brought more with her than she thought? No . . . it was entirely possible that she had completely forgotten to take her pills at some point during the three weeks she'd spent in China. The question was, did she forget them all in a row? If it was just a few scattered days it would be all right, but in a row. . .
"Akane?" Ranma asked behind her. She turned from the rock she'd been sitting on to see him smiling, holding both packs, and apparently held hostage by a girl with a rather dangerous looking saber. Akane knew he could beat the girl. . . but she had a sneaking suspicion. . .
"It appears we're closer to the Amazon village than we thought we were," he informed her, his tone insultingly casual.
----------------------
"You two have less sense than most vegetables," Cologne fumed, pacing back and forth. Ranma and Akane, sitting in her hut away from the curious, accusatory glares of the rest of the tribe, absorbed this insult without comment.
"You are just incredibly fortunate that I saw you before you told them your name," she continued.
"But Shampoo's married, right? And I'm married, and the girl me is. . . dead, and so what could they do?" Ranma interrupted. Cologne fixed him with a gimlet eye.
"They can beat the hell out of you on general principle. Shampoo was a popular girl, and you have effectively ruined her life. Married to a man she can't stand the sight of. . ."
"Still?" Akane gasped, dismayed. She'd thought for sure that Mousse would be able to win the stubborn Amazon over.
"Still," Cologne sighed, suddenly seeming weary. She shook her head and turned to Ranma, most traces of anger lost in the fatigue that washed her features.
"Why have you come here?" she asked. Ranma straightened his back.
"Mousse beat me, more than a year ago. I came to see if I could even the score," he explained, completely ignoring the fact that Mousse's victory couldn't outweigh the countless times he'd lost to Ranma.
"So he was telling the truth. Huh," Cologne mused. She glared at Akane. "And you?"
"You don't think I was going to let him leave me behind!" Akane replied hotly. Cologne glared at her.
"Fool. Amazon law is a lot different than your law. In Japan, the legality of a marriage is enough. Here, until the woman is pregnant the marriage can be voided," she announced. The blood drained from Akane's face.
"You mean. . ."
"That's right, child. All bets are off. Now that you're here, Shampoo will try to void her marriage to Mousse," she glared at Ranma, "by somehow winning you."
"She can't win me over," Ranma scoffed, with a glance at Akane.
"I didn't say win you over. I said win you. Like a prize. Unless you're expecting, Akane, I believe Shampoo will try to kill you."
----------------------
They slept in Cologne's hut that night, dozing fitfully, waiting for Shampoo's footsteps to sound at the door. Ranma felt trapped. The way Cologne had explained it to them, if he fought Shampoo again and won, she could again make a claim on him. . . provided neither she nor Akane was pregnant. According to the old ghoul, Shampoo kept Mousse from her bed with a variety of potions and sharp implements, so that was out. And Akane had been taking birth control pills since long before they'd consummated their marriage.
If he lost to her, he automatically had lower status in the tribe and could not officially challenge Mousse, who was presumably strong enough to beat her. It all seemed ridiculous to him, but the end of it was that he couldn't fight Shampoo. Which meant, WHEN the purple-haired girl came for them (which Cologne assured them she would) Akane would have to fight her. He wasn't absolutely sure Akane could beat her. And he'd be damned if he'd stand by and watch Shampoo try to kill Akane. His guts wrenched at the very thought.
Which left him with one final option. Find Mousse, beat him, and get the hell back on the road before Shampoo knew they were in her village. If Mousse could be either knocked out or convinced not to tell her. . . there was a chance. The old ghoul seemed to be on their side, in a limited sense. She was tired of the stubborn refusal of her granddaughter to accept her fate. She was tired of the wall-wreaking and sullen silences. Most of all, she was tired of the other elders looking at her as though she were a failure. She would not have Shampoo disgrace herself further.
So.
As soon as Akane's breathing got more regular, he kissed her forehead and rose to his feet. The old ghoul was lying on her side, at the other side of the small hut. Drool was dribbling out of her wrinkled mouth.
"Cologne," he said, quietly. She rolled to her feet, instantly awake and none too happy about it. Centuries of battle training had done it do her. She could hardly sleep anymore, she was always jolting awake at some tiny sound. But her name. . . that was not such an insignificant sound.
"This better be worth it," she mumbled, glowering at him. He explained the idea to her, briefly, asking how to find Mousse and other such necessary things. Cologne answered his questions with a speculative glare, tapping her fingers impatiently on her leg.
"And Akane?" she asked at last, narrowing her eyes to slits as she regarded him. He took a bracing breath.
"I leave her in your care. If Shampoo finds out she's here before I get back. . ." he frowned, wondering just what he could ask of the old ghoul.
"Oh, I can see to my granddaughter easily enough. But if she challenges Akane openly instead of simply going in for the kill, there is little I can do. Or rather, little I am willing to do. The only way I will intervene is if Akane is carrying a child—one of our most sacred laws prohibits the killing of a pregnant woman, challenge or no." She smiled wryly at Ranma. "I assume you have taken precautions against such a thing?"
He nodded numbly. A quick, secret fight still seemed to him to be the only good option, but it was losing its appeal all the time. Perhaps they should just go home. But then. . . their trip would have been in vain. More importantly, for the rest of his life he would see the new cursed form of Mousse behind his eyelids, jeering at him. He couldn't just leave when he was so close.
"Please hide her, then," he asked, and slipped out the door into the night. Cologne watched him go with a sinking feeling. She knew that if the events of the night and dawn didn't go well, there would be more deaths than just Akane's. She shook her head to clear it of the images of suicide and murder that filled it. If Akane died, and Ranma once more became the property of Shampoo. . . remembering the tale of Saffron's defeat, and Mousse's quiet revelation of the moments in which Akane's live was in peril. . . she was not so sure Ranma would take it philosophically. In fact, she was reasonably sure copious amounts of blood would be involved in the aftermath. And decaying flesh.
"Too bloody macabre," she muttered to herself. With a last speculative glance at the figure curled ont eh floor of her hut, she too disappeared into the night. On the off chance that their "precautions" had failed, she wanted to be sure Akane was not with child. In order to do that, there were a few things she needed to fetch.
As she bounced through the village, using her staff like a pogo stick, she passed the hut Mousse shared with Shampoo. She noted with a nod of satisfaction the two shadows sneaking away from it. What she didn't notice was the pale face of a purple-haired woman, staring at the two shadows with an expression of shock.