"I am fine." Robin repeated to Amon for what felt like the tenth time. "Why don't you go to the doctor, you were shot." She added pointedly. She remembered the way Zaizen's bullet had slammed Amon to the wall, and the way he had slumped to the floor. For one horrifying instant Robin was sure that he was dead, just as she had been sure that day Raven's Flat had been attacked that he had died.

She would never forget, in all her days, the sight of the bullet slamming into him. It was a memory that would haunt her dreams for years to come.

And now he was acting as if he was perfectly fine, as if she had been the one to nearly die.

"Then perhaps we should both go," he said, and then that infuriating man let the bathroom door shut in her face.

To prove him wrong she left the room and headed over to the breakfast buffet the motel supplied for its guests. She poured herself another cup of lack-luster coffee and a bowl of cereal. The food wasn't wonderful, but it was edible, and it wasn't too different from what she had been raised on. In Japan the only food she had been able to eat had been either Master's, or microwaved burritos or noodles bought in the frozen foods section of the local corner store. Everything else had been too strange for an Italian girl like her to enjoy.

Here was apparently somewhere in North America going by the accents of the morning-newscasters, the US perhaps, or even Canada. Nagira had once said something about Amon having contacts within the US military. Contacts who didn't know about the STN-J or SOLOMON, who perhaps didn't even know what Amon's real name was, just that they owed him some favors. Perhaps that was why he had chosen this place, rather then Singapore or Hong Kong. It was one of the things she would have to ask him, later. When she wasn't being mad at him.

Her stomach soured after three bites of the tasteless cereal, and she pushed the bowl aside. Really, it was too early in the morning to eat anything.

When Amon came down a half an hour later she was sitting on a couch, watching TV. The morning show had been replaced with some kind of local news program. She hadn't been able to catch more than about three quarters of what was said, but she didn't want to, really. The news had the usual assortment of car crashes, murdered children, and school board meetings that seemed to permeate the airwaves. It left her feeling a bit depressed, SOLOMON in all its might strove against Witches, while ordinary humans used super-human strength in the form of cars or guns or bombs to wreck havoc that would shame the most power-mad Witch. It didn't take special powers in this day and age to commit mass atrocities. Really, it was no wonder she didn't feel like eating.

Studiously Robin ignored Amon's presence. Perhaps it was childish, but she couldn't help it. Once again her life had been turned upside down, and he was at the center of it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him walk over to her and stand next to the couch, towering over her. Robin curled up tighter and tried to concentrate on the TV, but the show wasn't really that interesting. In a way his behavior was mildly unnerving, as if she was a strange microbe being examined under a microscope. She shifted under the weight of his silent regard, feeling irritable.

Amon broke the strained silence after a minute. "Have you eaten anything?"

She shrugged. "A little." He snorted, glanced at the not-very-empty bowl, and sat down on the other side of the couch.

"I spoke to the desk clerk. She said the best thing to do is go to a emergency room, they are required by law to treat anyone who shows up at the door."

"Oh." She blinked. "That would work for me, but you were shot. Wouldn't they have to report that?"

He shrugged, and then grimaced slightly. "It's a bone-bruise, nothing more. You, on the other hand…"

"You told me that you would go, too!"

"I lied. I tend to do that every now and again."

Robin glared at him, frustrated. "I won't go unless you go."

"Stubborn, aren't you?" he asked rhetorically. "I'll make you a deal. I'll show you the wound, and if you still agree that I need a doctor we will both go. Afterwards we may have to leave the country again, if anyone asks too many questions."

Robin gave him a sharp look as the TV changed from the newscast to some sort of talk show, but she wasn't paying attention to that. Amon was being strangely accommodating. In the past he had simply hauled her off to the optometrist or the hospital or wherever he felt she should go without so much as a by-your-leave, so his insistence that she agree to going to see a doctor was more then a little surprising.

Well, that was a mystery to be solved later, if she had the chance. In the mean time she nodded, agreeing to see his wound. Maybe it wasn't as bad as she thought. They made their way back up to their room and Amon stripped off his shirt as soon as the door was shut. It was a good thing, Robin thought, that she had spent all those months living in Japan, sharing a room with a typical Japanese business woman and watching Japanese television. Otherwise she wouldn't have been able to cover her reaction to the sight of Amon's lean frame. He removed the bandage on his injured shoulder, muscles rippling smoothly beneath his skin.

Of course she had seen half-naked men in underwear or antiperspirant ads, but this was the first time she had seen one in real life. It was…rather embarrassing; not the fact that Amon had his shirt off, but the kind of reaction it seemed to have on her. Part of her wanted to reach out and touch his muscles, to see if they were really as hard and smooth as they looked, but the other part of her was shocked at the very idea. She had been raised in a convent, for goodness sakes! She would have been a nun, had not life intervened! To think of a man, especially one that she liked and respected, in such a carnal matter was sinful. Robin blushed and looked away.

"Here," he said, seemingly unaware of her inner turmoil. "Look."

Reluctantly she looked back at him, trying to avoid looking at anything other then his shoulder. Certainly not his biceps or six-pack, and definitely not his face. She didn't want to know if he was aware of how uncomfortable she was. His wounded shoulder was black and blue with bruises centering on a puncture wound. Hesitantly she reached out and touched it, jerking back at his startled intake of breath. The wound was a bit swollen and tender, but not, she discovered as she trailed her fingers lightly over it, overly-warm. There was no sign of infection.

"The Orbo did enter your bloodstream, after all." She said suddenly. Robin was slightly startled by just how calm she sounded, not at all as if there was a half-naked (and attractive a little voice said) man sitting on her bed.

"Yes." Robin noticed for the first that he seemed to have a slight sheen of sweat on his face and body, and realized that he was in greater pain then he had let on.

"What did it feel like?" she whispered, mesmerized by the scent of him. It was oddly spicy, like the desert wind. She knew that she should leave and let him get dressed, but she didn't really want to. Now she knew why lust was considered one of the deadly sins, it was so seductive, so able to bypass the most disciplined of minds… She stepped away from him.

Amon didn't seem to notice.

"It was like…being struck by lighting is the only way to describe it. It hurt, but not like being hit. It felt like someone had poured acid down my nerves. It still hurts, a bit." He shook his head, and much to Robin's secret relief put his shirt on again. "We should go."

Robin crossed her arms and glared, trying to cover up her response to him. "Your shoulder—"

"I didn't convince you, did I? Heh, all right." He stood up. "Let's go."

If I was a SOLOMON operative, and I had a man I needed to hide, where would I put him? That was the question of the week. Of course, Doujima mused, she was, in fact, a SOLOMON operative; and there had been times in her life when she had needed to hide men, from her father if nothing else. She smiled at the memory of Jake Baker hiding in her closet, the small one just outside her bathroom at home, not the big one that her father was sure to search, while Mr. Doujima lectured her about the solemnity and seriousness of study, the need to Hunt Witches, and why she shouldn't spending her precious time messing around with Boys and shopping..

While she was not a slacker when she needed to be, Yurika was not a Type A personality, preferring the more laid back approach to life, spying, and shopping. Despite her father's pressure she was never able to change that. Fortunately this assignment really let her show her stuff. Maybe that would finally make good old Dad back off.

Poor Jake. The linen closet really wasn't made for hiding a second-rate Casanova. No wonder he eventually hooked up with that girl from Nebraska and settled down to raise pigs. In a way, she couldn't blame him, he clearly wasn't cut out to be the type of guy who could go out with a girl like her.

Well, poor Jake only had to hide from his former-girlfriend's angry father, Nagira was something else. She had no idea where he was, but she knew someone who might, if he would even talk to her. Father Juliano. He was the highest ranking SOLOMON agent in Japan, currently, and the only one who might be inclined to help the person who hid Robin.

Unless Robin was still being Hunted by him. Unless the STN-J was in trouble for aiding her. Doubt and hope were one and the same, and stood abreast with fear.

Now, if only she could work up the courage to beard the old dragon in his den.

The phone rang at some ungodly hour of the morning, Doujima rolled over and swatted at it in that vague hope that it would shut up and let her sleep, but the damn thing was too far away to hit without getting out of bed. To make matters worse at some point a Far-More-Awake-Doujima had programmed the damn thing with the most annoying ring that she could find, and Trying-To-Sleep-Doujima cursed her soundly. She had spent the day making useless calls and searching nearby churches, but it appeared that Father Juliano had already left the country. She probably wouldn't be able to contact him while he was flying back the Headquarters. That's assuming he even wants to talk to me. Which was a hell of an assumption. The higher up Priestly-types could be insular as hell.

She buried her head in her pillow, trying to block out the damn phone. Sleep was something that she was not used to not having on a regular basis, and in the last couple of days Doujima had been the longest she had ever deprived herself since training to be a Hunter.

Ring

BEEP

"Doujima? This is Michael. I know you can hear me so pick up the phone! The Chief wants to know where you have been for the last couple of days, and…"

She gave up. Once Michael started calling he wouldn't stop until she answered. Groaning, Doujima pulled herself out of bed and groped for the reservoir. "Hi," yawn, "Mike. How's it going?"

"Finally. Where the hell were you? I've been calling and calling and…" Doujima rolled her eyes at Michael's litany. Really, all he did was try to piss her off.

"Michael, is this really important enough to call me in the middle of the night?"

Over the phone she heard him take a deep sigh, and it was obvious his answer was forcibly calm. "Four SEEDS turned up dead two hours ago, and there are more missing. SEEDS, not Witches. The only reason we know is because of the Chief's contacts in the Japanese Police."

She sat up abruptly, the sudden kick of adrenaline banishing sleep completely. "SEEDS? Are there…. Scratch that. I'll be over in a couple minutes."

Another sigh. "Hey, thanks."

Click.

Sleepiness forgotten she got up and dressed, trying not to hurry. If SOLOMON's Hunters were hunting more then Witches, Nagira might be… She didn't want to finish that thought. He's human. SOLOMON wouldn't kill a human, would they?

Of course they would.

Mechanically she pulled the cover off Parakeet's cage and changed her food and water. Keet woke up long enough to chitter at the unusual nocturnal intrusion before tucking her beak back over her shoulder and going to sleep. Briefly Doujima thought about taking her to Raven's Flat, but decided against it. If it looked like she was going to be away for a few days she could always ask the apartment manager to take care of the bird.

Out to the car, and away. She could take the subway, like she normally did, but it was rather late at night, and the last thing Doujima needed was to deal with some drunk asshole who couldn't tell the difference between a two yen hooker, and a business woman like herself. No, her car was the way to go.

"What took you?" Michael's voice snapped. He was sitting down in his chair, his splinted leg extended out in front of him awkwardly. Silently she waved a box of doughnuts at him and set it down next to his computer.

"Krispy Kreme is open twenty four hours, I thought you might like something to eat…What's wrong?" He was staring at the box, the light from his screen reflecting off his glasses, obscuring his eyes. "Michael?"

"She used to bring doughnuts. At night. We'd have doughnuts and coffee…"

No need to say who she was. Doujima sat down next to him, carefully avoiding her chair. "She's dead, Michael. They both are. I'm sorry."

He looked at her, his face expressionless, but Doujima was used to him by now. They'd worked together for several years, now, and Doujima was good at reading expressionless faces. "How do you know? How can you know? Maybe they…" Doujima cut him off.

"No. They died. I know because they can't be Hunted if they are dead. SOLOMON doesn't care about corpses."

"So you think they…" But Doujima was shaking her head.

"I have to believe they died, Michael. I have to believe their bodies were burned to ashes in the Factory, and that there is nothing left of them. I have to believe that, because if I believe they are alive, well, I wouldn't be the only one believing that, and they would have the hounds of SOLOMON hot on their scent. So they're dead. Have a doughnut."

"So they did.."

"Drop it, Michael."

And he did. Doujima hoped that he got her point. Whether or not Robin and Amon were dead didn't matter, what mattered is that the STN-J acted as if they were. It was the only thing the team could do for that pair.

Well, there was one other thing. But it could wait until she had a cup of tea. Doujima hated the coffee that Robin bought, and the tea stocked in the break room frankly stank. Fortunately Kosaka insisted on drinking only the best Oolong. She wasn't above stealing from the boss at a time like this. Speaking of the boss…

"Where is everybody?"

"Miss Karasuma is still at the hospital and Haurato's with her. The Chief is out looking at bodies, Hattori is with him."

Doujima frowned. "I thought they released Miho yesterday."

"No, ah, they think she was accidentally poisoned by whatever was used to produce Orbo… They aren't saying much, but she's got some of SOLOMON's doctors looking at her. They do say they think she's going to fine in a couple weeks, though."

"Oh." I guess I really have been out of the loop. Stupid Nagira-Who-Is-Missing. She decided to change the subject. If she wanted to listen to gruesome tales of medical maladies she could always give her mother a call. "What was this about dead SEEDS?"

Michael's spine straightened and he put down his doughnut. "The Chief thinks that there is some sort of in-fighting going on in the walled City between some of the Witches, and the SEEDs just happened to get caught in the crossfire."

Doujima snorted. Infighting among the Witch community was serious, but not serious enough for Michael to drag her out of bed for a couple of bodies that could surely wait till morning. "And what do you think?"

Pause. Michael glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice, probably without being aware that he was doing so. "I think it was the Hunters SOLOMON sent over to 'help us out'. We don't Hunt SEEDs, Doujima." Michael's voice had an unusually sharp edge.

"I know." Doujima sighed. She was half-tempted to tell him that a couple of cold bodies in the morgue didn't rate getting her up so damn early, and would have except… Well, except for the fact that Nagira is missing. Nagira, who probably knew more about the local Witch community then the STN-J did.

"We just keep track of them. Find them if they disappear. We don't Hunt them."

"You don't need to tell me, I know."

The weird thing was, Michael should have known those bodies weren't an emergency, although they definitely signaled a problem. So why did he call? She took in the coffee and doughnuts, the creepy air of Raven's Flat at night, and the way he seemed to be jittering on the edge of completely loosing it and felt a pang of sympathy.

Too bad she had to get down to business. "You said something about other SEEDs missing. What about humans?"

There wasn't any humor in his laugh. "In a city this big? There are always missing humans. Why do you ask?"

She took a deep breath and dropped the bomb. "Nagira's missing, and his apartment's been tossed."

Michael spat out his coffee. "SOLOMON?" he choked.

"After what happened the other night, who else?"

"Shit."

That was all that needed to be said.