Author's Notes:
Yeah, yeah, I know. This took awhile. Why has it been over a month since this was updated, if all AY3 needed was editing? The answer is that I do happen to have a life outside of my fanfiction, and that life needs to take priority. My junior year in high school is rapidly drawing to a close, which means that I'm starting to look at colleges. And since my high school is notorious for the ghastly amount of work it loads on, more stuff to do is not often a welcome thing. So I've been hurting for time. Also, I make sure I take all of my prereaders' comments into account, and they have busy lives too. 'After You' is still coming along, but don't expect it to come along any faster.
As I always note, I have the best prereaders in existence: Alissa, Diana, Natalia, and Greg. This fic would not be where it is without them.
This chapter is dedicated to all those who have given me their thoughts on the two before it deep breath: Darksyn, Rei, Silver Kitty Kat, ManaChan, D-Chan, Lia-chan, Ray DeVore, SongInTheSilence, Shiannime, dmoni, Jace, may, Super Kawaii, Farseeker, anna lee, ramen, Ye Almighty, neko-chama, Akane Miata, Jaid Skywalker, John Surber, pokey, NemesisZero, Makotojs, lija, CSMars, Vivi, and WeirdyxKoshy. And of course, those of my school anime buds that have already read this chapter: Lauren, Yueling, Whitney, and Mariel.
The mailing list is in operation: if you wanna be notified when a new chapter of AY comes out, say so in a review or email me at nakigoe_chan@hotmail.com.
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AFTER YOU
Chapter 3: Three to Get Deadly
By: nakigoe-chan
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Damn. I left my Antichrist gun at home.
-Ranger, Janet Evanovich's 'Three to Get Deadly'
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No way. No way in HELL.
It couldn't possibly be true.
It was just a stupid rumor. Besides, Gosunkugi had always been jealous of Ranma, and had always had a crush on me. What better way to keep us apart than to place mistrust in me from the very start? Not to mention that one imagines one's enemies capable of the most horrible things.
Unfortunately, there was still that nagging little 'but'...
It wasn't as if Ranma had never killed before. I couldn't even imagine the power he had needed to kill Saffron. And Ranma – doubtless this new Ranma, certainly the old Ranma – was nothing if not power-hungry. He would do anything to gain the advantage and keep it.
No - there were limits; even with Ranma, who had spent his life defying limits. There was only one thing he was willing to go that far for, and that one thing was me. Or was that just another illusion of the past? I didn't know what to believe anymore. But I wasn't about to let Gos know that.
"He didn't do it."
"You sure?"
"Yes." I said with a voice edged in defiance.
He shrugged. "Whatever." He didn't believe me. And, as ashamed as I was to admit it, I didn't totally believe me either. Not that I thought Ranma had done it. I just wasn't totally positive that he hadn't.
And all of a sudden, he was next to me. And despite my doubts, I had that safe feeling again. Nothing would happen to me as long as he was there. Or was it just me dwelling on memories?
"Hey," he said. "You ready to go? Our work here is done."
"Yeah." I glanced back at Gosunkugi, as if daring him to accuse Ranma or tell me not to go off with him alone. Gos looked worried, but said nothing.
"Ja, Gos." Ranma said, and the two of us walked out of the theater. I heard a cop ask another if I was Ranma's girlfriend, and I got shivers at the thought. The very idea was beautiful and frightening, and I couldn't completely imagine it.
Which led to a question that made me stop and gasp – I had never considered the possibility that Ranma might already have a girlfriend. The topic had never come up, and I was too terrified to ask, but I couldn't stop thinking about the question of whether or not Ranma was already taken. The object of my mental wanderings turned and looked at me quizzically. "Something wrong?"
"No," I managed. "Nothing's wrong."
We walked out of the building, and flurries danced around us, the first flakes of the season. I smiled at Ranma. "Lucky it's so cold, huh?"
He gave me his clueless look, and it was so familiar that I burst out laughing. His expression became edged in irritation, but his voice was devoid of hostility when he asked me what I was talking about.
"The snow," I explained through giggles. "Your curse."
He laughed then, too. "It's been so long," he said. "I got rid of my curse years ago."
"You did?" I asked. "That's fantastic! I'm so happy for you."
"Yeah, I'm so happy for me, too."
"How?"
"Long story. I'll get into it later."
And we walked along in companionable silence, listening to the sounds around us and watching the snow start to stick. When we got to his car, he made a melodramatic bow and held the door open for me.
"What do you know," I said. "You've finally learned to be something of a gentleman."
"More of an actor," he told me, going around the car and sliding behind the wheel. "I don't think you can be a bounty hunter and a gentleman. It would be like a grizzly in a tuxedo. It would be like Schwarzenegger as a ballerina."
I laughed as he pealed down the road in an ungentlemanly fashion, and realized that Ranma being a gentleman would be like Ranma being a gentleman, and that was the best comparison of all. And if Ranma had to compromise himself to be a gentleman, then screw being a gentleman. I wouldn't have Ranma any other way.
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He dropped into a very chic office in a 20-story building to pick up some work related stuff. He'd offered to take me back to my apartment, but I stammered out a decline after he reassured me that until we established that no one was after me, he'd rather have me stick around. The office had that simple but expensive look. While I couldn't bring myself to terms with Ranma having an office, this was the office that - should he be forced into picking one - he would feel the most comfortable in.
I sat in one of the two chairs facing the mahogany desk as he sat down behind it and put his feet up, shuffling through his mail. Ranma had always been strong, but now I came to grips with how much he'd learned about survival. Here he was, doing something the old Ranma would never be pictured doing; going about as normal a life as he could bear to tie himself down to, and actually being very successful at it. Though in all honesty, I still thought of Ranma as good at anything. Was this the image he'd induced, or the image I wanted?
"I didn't know you kept in contact with Nabiki," I said, letting my mouth open as my thoughts roamed.
"I do some work for her, sometimes. Maybe it's for old time's sake." He grinned as he briefly glanced up from the laptop where he was now presumably checking his email. "Maybe because now I actually get paid for it, and it has nothing to do with revealing photographs."
"Do you really need her money? You seem to be doing well. So what do you get from her? Financial advice? Girl advice?" the last of which was, of course, my subtle way of screaming at him: have you got a girlfriend/fiancée/wife?
"Is that your way of asking if I'm involved with someone?"
Well, he was certainly a lot more observant than he used to be. "No."
"Then I won't tell you."
"Hey! You brought it up!"
"But YOU don't care." He smirked.
"That's right," I said haughtily. "I don't."
"So you don't need to know."
I SO needed to know, but I wasn't about to tell him that.
"Nabiki does give me business and financial advice, not to mention pays me well for various jobs. She also keeps me up to date on you Nerima people. We're actually pretty good friends now; but I'm beginning to suspect that she might have started to respect me, so I have no idea what is going on."
We smiled at each other and I felt that tingly, happy feeling again. He had such a sexy grin.
He shrugged on his leather jacket as we left the room. As he held open the door for me, he said, "No."
"No?"
"I don't currently have a girlfriend."
With my back to him, I allowed myself a small private grin. 'Small,' of course, in the sense that it didn't stretch all the way around my head, only because that's physically impossible.
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Once again in the car, Ranma leaned back in the leather driver's seat and exhaled. "I have work to do," he said, "so I'm going to have to drop you off at your apartment and - "
"Can't I come?"
"Akane," he sighed, "I'm a bounty hunter. This isn't a desk job where you can sit around in the office lounge and read a paperback and not get in the way. This is chasing criminals. You'll either get in the way, get shot, or both. Neither of which I'm enthusiastic about."
I pouted, and through his iron resistance I could see his resolve crumbling. Butter in my hands. "Please?" I asked, not pouring on the sweet factor to the point of being whiny and disgusting but still managing to ooze charm.
"Akane..." Ooh, he was gonna crack. "No." Or not.
"Ranma..."
"Akane, I can NOT knowingly endanger you."
"Ok, first of all, this is not a murderer, is it?"
He shook his head. "He hasn't killed anyone yet, but that doesn't mean he won't. He *was* armed."
"But - "
"Akane, I'm not arguing with you about this. You can't come."
"So you're going to leave me alone in my apartment?"
Ranma started hitting his head on the steering wheel. He couldn't take me with him and he couldn't leave me behind. Dilemma, dilemma...
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"Okay," Ranma said, "this is called a stun gun. You press these metal prongs against someone's skin, the gun omits an electrical charge, and the person you decided to play Franklin Kite with passes out."
"Is there any permanent damage?"
"No. But that doesn't mean you get to futz with it. It's a weapon, and should be treated like one."
"Like my hammer?"
"Bad example. Like a gun, only not so much."
"Yeah. Hey, why don't I get a gun?"
"Because you might shoot me."
I settled for sticking my tongue out at him, rather than zapping him with the stun gun. He, of course, pointedly ignored it.
"The guy we're going after," Ranma continued, "is an arsonist, but he's 65, so don't use the stun gun unless you have to. Old people aren't nearly so…durable."
"We're after a 65-year-old pyromaniac?"
"You got it, tomboy."
"Hey!"
"Force of habit. Plus it's true."
Rather than yelling at him, I chose a tactic that I had found subtler and more effective than melodramatic explosions. I gave him my biggest puppy- dog eyes and asked softly, "Do you really think so?"
I could tell that if the steering wheel had still been available, Ranma would have been banging his head against it again. "No. I just can't stop teasing you. I'm sorry; I don't say it to hurt your feelings."
Instantly I was perky again. "I wasn't upset! I just wanted to hear you admit it so I can hold it against you later."
"I really should have left you at your apartment."
"Probably."
"Maybe I should take you back right now."
"Probably. But you aren't going to, are you?"
Ranma sighed and shook his head.
"So he won't shoot at us?" I asked.
"Doubtful."
"What will he do?"
Ranma looked at me, and took his jacket off. "You aren't wearing leather, so there shouldn't be much of a problem. If you ARE wearing anything expensive, take it off. Let's go."
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"Samson, I know that you're in there!" Ranma pounded on the door of a ratty apartment fifteen minutes later, with me two feet behind him.
"You aren't going to kick the door down?"
"I only get to do that if they're uncooperative, which this guy usually is. Best part of my job, but I gotta give them a chance or I get in trouble."
"Ah."
Ranma turned back to the door. "SamSON!"
A diplomatic answer came through the door, showing us this man's willingness to be calm and reasonable. "FUCK OFF, SAOTOME!"
"He knows me," Ranma explained to me with a shrug, "because I've had to bring him in several times before. He'll set something on fire, get arrested, make bail, and then not show up for his court date. So then he'll get arrested again, and the cycle just keeps going around. But the good thing is that *now* I get to kick the door in."
The poor door never had a chance.
"Still got it," Ranma grinned at me.
"As if you ever had it," I told him.
He gave me his sexiest evil smile and said, "You wanna test me out before you stand by that remark?"
I blushed beet red and his grin widened. With a light laugh, he confirmed to himself, "Still got it."
"Pervert."
"Tomboy."
And we went into the apartment, where Samson's response was as polite as his words had led us to believe, inasmuch as he promptly sprayed us with a handy fire extinguisher. Ranma avoided it, but since I hadn't expected it I caught a full blast in the face.
"Gyaaaaaaaaah!"
"You should have stepped out of the way," Ranma told me calmly.
"You should have *warned* me!"
"I didn't know. Last time he had a Super Soaker filled with soy sauce. He said he was celebrating my ethnicity. Then he ruined my shirt."
"YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!" Samson howled, waving his arms above his head.
"You do the crime, you pay the time." Ranma told him firmly. "And you're lucky that I won't also make you pay her dry-cleaning bill. Besides, we both know that you only do this for the attention." He turned to me. "I figured we could deal with this guy your first time out because he's easy. He makes a big mess and a lot of noise, but in the end he's harmless."
All I could do was stare at him, the white foamy stuff from the fire extinguisher dripping off me. The man had no concept of where life ended and insanity began.
"This is because you guys lost the war, isn't it?" Samson sighed. "You guys are still pissed about that Hiroshima thing."
"Ignore him," Ranma advised me. "Getting arrested makes him cranky."
"I have the scoop on you people!" Samson yelled. "I've read 'Dave Barry Does Japan.' I know what's going on."
"Oh, brother..."
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"Here," Ranma said an hour later, as we walked out of the bond office he worked for, handing me a check.
"What's this for?"
"There was a bounty on Samson. You did some of the work, so you get some of the profits."
I looked at the check. I knew what Samson was worth, and it was exactly this much. Ranma had given me the whole bond. I looked at the check again, then up at him. "You did most of the work. Why did you give me all of it?"
He tsked to himself. "I was hoping you didn't know how much he was worth."
"Why don't you take some?"
"I don't need it. From what Nabiki tells me, you do."
"That's none of your business!" I hissed. "I don't want your charity!"
He shrugged. "I never pried Nabiki's mouth open. And it was your first takedown. I figured it was more to you than the routine it is to me."
"Oh yeah?" I snapped. "So what *did* you get out of it?"
He gave me a sideways smile. "The pleasure of your company."
He was trying to cheer me up, loosen me up, I knew. And suddenly I felt ashamed; here he was, doing something thoughtful for me at his own expense without me even asking for it or doing anything to deserve it, and I was getting angry with him because I was embarrassed. Just like old times. "Sorry," I whispered. "I guess the past five minutes haven't done much in that front, huh?"
"No problem. You wouldn't be you if you didn't manage to get pissed off at me on a regular basis. Keeps me on guard."
I marveled at how comfortable this new Ranma felt about being himself around me. Was it because he had come to grips with his feelings for me, or because those feelings had disappeared? The amount he was flirting with me kept my hopes alive for the first. My feelings were pushing me to let themselves be known with every smile he'd given me. But for the moment, I'd settled for flirting back. "Right," I said, "you just wanted to see me blasted with that fire extinguisher."
Ranma danced around me on the balls of his feet, his eyes dancing with them, and laughed, "Why would I want that? All that white foam covering your face? What a waste of a pretty face." I playfully grabbed his arm as I giggled, and all of a sudden we were nose-to-nose and all the playfulness was gone from his expression. His eyes had gone a deep blue, the grey almost completely receding in the intensity of color. My heart was beating at a gazillion miles an hour and my mind froze on that single, oh-so- anticipated-moment; he brushed a strand of hair from my face, we were leaning forward, he was going to *kiss* me...
And then he swore and backed away.
Damn, damn, damn, damn! "What?" I asked.
"Gosunkugi. He followed us." He turned to the alleyway 20 feet behind us and called, "I know you're there, so you may as well come out."
Hikaru Gosunkugi emerged from the alleyway, looking freaked out but resolved. I could tell just by looking at him that he had convinced himself that Ranma was guilty, and had taken into his own hands the duty of protecting me. I was not, however, in the mood to feel anything but murderous toward him because of what he had interrupted. Screw concern: Gos had messed up the chance of a lifetime, and I was as pissed as I could get in the 20 seconds I'd had to go from about-to-be-kissed to killing-the- little-bastard-with-no-sense-of-privacy. Ranma's face, of course, was unreadable.
"What's up?" Ranma said calmly.
"I know what you did," Gosunkugi quavered.
"That covers a lot of territory."
"You killed Hiroshi!"
Ranma's brows came together in an expression of complete confusion. "You think *I* killed Hiroshi?"
"You've done a lot of illegal stuff, and a lot of reporters would kill to get the evidence needed to nail you."
"Well first of all, I don't know what they'd kill for, but I would not kill to keep it quiet. Second of all, Hiroshi was my friend. Third of all, all you have backing up this theory of yours is random guesses. So I knew him. So did dozens of other people. And I haven't seen him in years anyway, so why would I decide to out of the blue find him and kill him?"
"You did it. He was an investigative reporter, you do illegal stuff, and he was asking questions about you! You had something to do with this story, and *you* are the one most capable of pulling something like this off."
Ranma was calm, but Gos was frantic and terrified; he really thought that he was facing down a murderer, I realized. But my mind was calming itself as Ranma punched holes in Gosunkugi's theory. Ranma *had* to be innocent.
"I don't care what you think," Ranma told Gos flatly, "and I have no interest in continuing this conversation. I am investigating this case in the interest of Akane's safety, and I do not plan to sit around and be called a murderer. Have a nice day, Gosunkugi, and leave us the hell alone." Ranma turned and walked to his car, and with a last glance at Gosunkugi, I scrambled after him.
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"Does he really think I did it?" Ranma asked me after five minutes of silence. We were headed back to the apartment after Gosunkugi's accusation, and the silence of the car had been oppressive. I certainly wanted to talk about something, but this was not exactly a conversation topic I'd been hoping for.
"Yeah. That's what he was talking to me in the theater about. He thinks that you're involved in a bunch of illegal stuff, and I guess he just hates you enough to come up with everything that might point at you."
Ranma shrugged, looking depressed and slightly peeved. "Well, he's right about one thing; I *have* been involved in stuff that is frowned on by the government and general law enforcement. But I don't do anything that I consider morally wrong, and I certainly didn't murder Hiroshi." He sighed, and suddenly looked much older, as if the chaos of his youth had finally caught up to him. "For me, friends are hard enough to come by without killing them off. And of course," another sigh, and now I could hear the age in his voice as well as see it on his face, "there is no higher price on oneself than that of taking another's life." He glanced quickly, sadly, at me, and added, "Even if it is to save someone else."
We rode in silence for a little longer, absorbed in what he'd said and what he'd left unsaid.
But then he spoke again, and I saw through his question the insecurity that lay beneath, the need for someone in his world to have faith in him. "Do you think I did it?"
"No," I said. "No, you didn't do it."
And, finally, I was completely sure of it. I was suddenly as certain he was innocent as I was suddenly aware that, without a doubt, I still loved him.
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"Do you want something to drink?" I asked him twenty minutes later, in my apartment. We had gotten back about ten minutes before, but Ranma had still been worried about me though he never said anything, and I was certainly in no hurry to send him on his merry way.
"That would be good," he said, leaning back on the couch.
I pulled two sodas out of the fridge and sat down next to him, not too close but not too far either, and handed him one of them. "So," I paused, "do you or the police have any theories about this?"
Ranma looked uncomfortable. "Akane..."
"What?"
"Well, the thing is, there's only one real suspect they have so far that there's solid evidence against, even if they haven't made any arrests."
"Who?"
"You."
I leapt to my feet. "*What?*"
"Akane, calm down."
"The police think that I murdered your friend, and you want me to calm down?!" I shrieked.
Ranma ran down the facts as I buried my face in my hands. "You discovered the body at two in the morning in a place you shouldn't have been anyway. There's no evidence to say the call was made, and even if there was, you were the only one known to be alone with the body and you didn't call the police when you found it. You say that Hiroshi was working on a big, dangerous story but his newspaper has no knowledge of it. You know more about what was going on with Hiroshi than anyone innocent should. You have no alibi, because Nabiki was asleep, and even the fact that you didn't wake her up looks incriminating." He shrugged. "If Gos looked at the facts instead of his past vendetta, he'd think you were guilty instead of me if he wasn't still in love with you."
Tears were coursing down my cheeks. I found myself echoing the question he'd asked in the car: "Do you think I did it?"
"No."
"How can you be so sure?" I was desperate to believe him but I didn't want comforting words. I wanted him to know, without a doubt, that I was innocent.
"Akane."
"Yes?"
"Did you kill Hiroshi?"
I exploded with fury and pain. "I thought you believed me!" I cried. "I thought you had faith in me! I thought that you trusted me! *I thought you thought that I was a good person!* I thought - "
"Akane," he cut me off, "did you kill Hiroshi?"
"NO!" I shrieked. How could he even ask? How could the person whose opinion mattered the most to me ask that question? Dry sobs wracked my body but the tears wouldn't come. "And you - "
I was cut off again as, lightening fast, he was off the couch and had his arms around me. "I believe you," he whispered into my hair, then kissed my forehead. "Shhh, Akane, don't cry, I believe you." And I knew he meant it.
I felt his arms hold me, gently but with a distinct possessiveness. This was the only place where I was safe, and I wanted to stay here, in his arms, forever.
Which was (of course) *exactly* the moment Nabiki and Joey walked in.
"Oh," Nabiki drawled, "la la."
"This isn't what it looks like," Ranma and I said in unison.
Argh! Did someone always have to interrupt just when things were getting interesting?
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Ranma filled in Nabiki on the various details of the day as I made my special a la Kraft Macaroni & Cheese and tried to keep it away from Joey, who happens to like to eat Mac & Cheese almost as much as he likes to eat empty Gatorade bottles and my shoes. Ranma, of course, lingered on the details of the Samson arrest, which Nabiki was thoroughly amused by.
Joey instantly adored Ranma, although as a general rule Joey instantly adores everyone. He was jumping up on Ranma and trying to lick his face, and Ranma has always had a great compatibility with dogs due to their traditional rivalry with cats. Actually, Joey is afraid of hyper little children and metro buses, but Ranma evidently did not fall into either category.
We talked little about the case; nothing had happened to indicate to us that the killer even had my name, so I was starting to slightly relax. Ranma told me to stay on guard, but even he, who had been fully ready all day in anticipation of me being shot at, seemed to be relaxing.
We sat down at the table and feasted on boxed dinner. Joey laid his head on Ranma's knee and made his eyes as big as he could. Ranma, however, kept all of his dinner for himself. His appetite hadn't changed, apparently, even if my ability to follow the simple directions on the side of a box had. I could now more or less follow a recipe, but Ranma and Nabiki amused themselves tremendously by pretending to die horrible, painful deaths at the hand of my cooking. Joey just hopped around, looking confused and barking. I went and fed the dog, stubbornly pretending to hold onto my dignity; there is something wrong with the sight of a bounty hunter in black jeans and a leather jacket pretending to die of food poisoning. However, they obviously did not care that I was ignoring them. They were laughing semi-hysterically when I bent over to put Joey's food bowl on the floor...
...and the window shattered and something whizzed by above me, right where my head had been.
A bullet?
"SHIT!" Ranma yelled, pushing Nabiki to the floor while she choked on her macaroni. "Akane, get down!"
I was completely immobile, though, so Ranma cursed as he leapt over and tackled me; we hit the ground hard and I winced. I was lying on my back, pinned beneath him, eyes shut tight in horror. A rain of bullets shattered my windows and hailed around us.
Nabiki screamed in one long, incessant stream, and I was waiting for her to run out of air and pass out. Actually, I think she was less scared than just being melodramatic.
You know, if I wasn't afraid for my life, and I wasn't about to have a *huge* bill for the trashing of the apartment, I would probably have thought this was very romantic.
The bullets finally stopped. I stared up into Ranma's eyes. When he had come so close to kissing me, they had cleared into mostly blue; now they were a cloudy grey, and I could read his concern for me in them. I was trembling and I had tears coursing down my cheeks.
"This *so* isn't my day," I whispered to him, and he smiled slightly.
"HEL-*LO*!" Nabiki called. She was sitting on the floor, and would have looked very sophisticated if an inch of her hair hadn't stuck up at the side of her face. "Could you two please have your trashy romance stuff on your own time, and preferably not when I have to watch it? Can we get a little attention for the hapless victim over here?"
Ranma stood up then held a hand out to me. I took it and he swept me up and into his arms, then stood back looking almost embarrassed. I was certainly blushing, but Nabiki looked nonplussed. "Save your romance for another time, little sister," she said, "'cause it looks like someone is after you after all..."
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END OF CHAPTER 3! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT! WAS IT GOOD? DID IT SUCK? I WANNA KNOW! Either R&R or mail me at nakigoe_chan@hotmail.com. I reply to all emails.
IN CHAPTER 4, FOUR TO SCORE:
(Wait...Four to SCORE?! No, not that, you perverts!) Ranma and Akane interview Hiroshi's coworker and snoop around the dead reporter's office. Gos stands by his theory, which leads to new revelations about Ranma. Ranma watches the play and gets hit on by Akane's coworkers. Oh, and one more little thing...no, I shouldn't tell you THAT. ^_^ And yes, I know all this because it's done and being edited.
Author's notes [Damn, can I ramble or what?!]:
I've gotten a few questions pertaining to 'After You.' So here's a fun little Q&A session...
Q1) Will this be Ranma/Akane?
A1) AY is a Ranma/Akane romance, because I believe very strongly in the couple (If you disagree, send me an email and I will be happy to tell you why I believe in no other pairing). However, you can't write a murder story and tell people it will have a happy or a miserable ending, because that takes away the suspense. This is a love story, but I make no guarantees for a happily-ever-after. If you wanna know, you'll have to stick around until the end of the ride, and it promises to be a pretty long ride.
Q2) Are you just winging this, or do you actually know what you're doing?
A2) I NEVER know what I'm doing. ^_~ Okay, the truth is both. I have specific events plotted out, I know the truth about the murder, I know who's guilty and who's not, I know how the story will end, I know how the climactic scene will play it self out, and I know the last line of the fic. I know what and where and when my evidence will show up. But as I write, plenty of the stuff that goes into this story is a surprise to me to. Most of the scenes are not planned, they just come.
Q3) Where did this fic come from? (One review said that it sounded like Fear Street, others have wondered about the play.)
A3) I have not read Fear Street in many, many years, and even when I did it held little appeal. But yes, this fic WAS inspired by a book series – my favorite book series - by Janet Evanovich. My writing style is similar to hers in many ways (esp. in TSAA) and my favorite character, Ranger, is a lot like the grown-up Ranma of AY, although that wasn't supposed to happen. I have never seen an occupation given to Ranma in ANY fic that I thought perfectly suited him. Bounty hunter worked best in my book, and as his character came into the story, Ranma's personality meshed with Ranger's (who is also a bounty hunter) more and more. But the JE books are the inspiration. As for the play Akane performs, 'After You' is a REAL PLAY. I have no rights to it, but the lines were what first planted the idea of this fic.
Q4) Will any other Ranma characters play a role?
A4) Umm...you'll certainly find out about what's happened to many of them in the past eight years. I'm trying to decide whether or not anyone will actually SHOW UP. I'm leaning toward yes. (Ryoga, for example, who can show up ANYWHERE, in any fic, because of his unique ability to wind up everywhere but where he's trying to be.)
Q5) Can anyone here say 'cliffhanger fetish?' What's your PROBLEM?
A5) Okay. I admit it. I LOVE putting cliffhangers in my stories. What fun! Although I didn't think this chapter's cliffhanger was bad. I warn you, however, that the worst of the cliffhangers are yet to come.
I hope you're enjoying the story so far. ^_~
~ nakigoe-chan
Yeah, yeah, I know. This took awhile. Why has it been over a month since this was updated, if all AY3 needed was editing? The answer is that I do happen to have a life outside of my fanfiction, and that life needs to take priority. My junior year in high school is rapidly drawing to a close, which means that I'm starting to look at colleges. And since my high school is notorious for the ghastly amount of work it loads on, more stuff to do is not often a welcome thing. So I've been hurting for time. Also, I make sure I take all of my prereaders' comments into account, and they have busy lives too. 'After You' is still coming along, but don't expect it to come along any faster.
As I always note, I have the best prereaders in existence: Alissa, Diana, Natalia, and Greg. This fic would not be where it is without them.
This chapter is dedicated to all those who have given me their thoughts on the two before it deep breath: Darksyn, Rei, Silver Kitty Kat, ManaChan, D-Chan, Lia-chan, Ray DeVore, SongInTheSilence, Shiannime, dmoni, Jace, may, Super Kawaii, Farseeker, anna lee, ramen, Ye Almighty, neko-chama, Akane Miata, Jaid Skywalker, John Surber, pokey, NemesisZero, Makotojs, lija, CSMars, Vivi, and WeirdyxKoshy. And of course, those of my school anime buds that have already read this chapter: Lauren, Yueling, Whitney, and Mariel.
The mailing list is in operation: if you wanna be notified when a new chapter of AY comes out, say so in a review or email me at nakigoe_chan@hotmail.com.
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AFTER YOU
Chapter 3: Three to Get Deadly
By: nakigoe-chan
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Damn. I left my Antichrist gun at home.
-Ranger, Janet Evanovich's 'Three to Get Deadly'
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No way. No way in HELL.
It couldn't possibly be true.
It was just a stupid rumor. Besides, Gosunkugi had always been jealous of Ranma, and had always had a crush on me. What better way to keep us apart than to place mistrust in me from the very start? Not to mention that one imagines one's enemies capable of the most horrible things.
Unfortunately, there was still that nagging little 'but'...
It wasn't as if Ranma had never killed before. I couldn't even imagine the power he had needed to kill Saffron. And Ranma – doubtless this new Ranma, certainly the old Ranma – was nothing if not power-hungry. He would do anything to gain the advantage and keep it.
No - there were limits; even with Ranma, who had spent his life defying limits. There was only one thing he was willing to go that far for, and that one thing was me. Or was that just another illusion of the past? I didn't know what to believe anymore. But I wasn't about to let Gos know that.
"He didn't do it."
"You sure?"
"Yes." I said with a voice edged in defiance.
He shrugged. "Whatever." He didn't believe me. And, as ashamed as I was to admit it, I didn't totally believe me either. Not that I thought Ranma had done it. I just wasn't totally positive that he hadn't.
And all of a sudden, he was next to me. And despite my doubts, I had that safe feeling again. Nothing would happen to me as long as he was there. Or was it just me dwelling on memories?
"Hey," he said. "You ready to go? Our work here is done."
"Yeah." I glanced back at Gosunkugi, as if daring him to accuse Ranma or tell me not to go off with him alone. Gos looked worried, but said nothing.
"Ja, Gos." Ranma said, and the two of us walked out of the theater. I heard a cop ask another if I was Ranma's girlfriend, and I got shivers at the thought. The very idea was beautiful and frightening, and I couldn't completely imagine it.
Which led to a question that made me stop and gasp – I had never considered the possibility that Ranma might already have a girlfriend. The topic had never come up, and I was too terrified to ask, but I couldn't stop thinking about the question of whether or not Ranma was already taken. The object of my mental wanderings turned and looked at me quizzically. "Something wrong?"
"No," I managed. "Nothing's wrong."
We walked out of the building, and flurries danced around us, the first flakes of the season. I smiled at Ranma. "Lucky it's so cold, huh?"
He gave me his clueless look, and it was so familiar that I burst out laughing. His expression became edged in irritation, but his voice was devoid of hostility when he asked me what I was talking about.
"The snow," I explained through giggles. "Your curse."
He laughed then, too. "It's been so long," he said. "I got rid of my curse years ago."
"You did?" I asked. "That's fantastic! I'm so happy for you."
"Yeah, I'm so happy for me, too."
"How?"
"Long story. I'll get into it later."
And we walked along in companionable silence, listening to the sounds around us and watching the snow start to stick. When we got to his car, he made a melodramatic bow and held the door open for me.
"What do you know," I said. "You've finally learned to be something of a gentleman."
"More of an actor," he told me, going around the car and sliding behind the wheel. "I don't think you can be a bounty hunter and a gentleman. It would be like a grizzly in a tuxedo. It would be like Schwarzenegger as a ballerina."
I laughed as he pealed down the road in an ungentlemanly fashion, and realized that Ranma being a gentleman would be like Ranma being a gentleman, and that was the best comparison of all. And if Ranma had to compromise himself to be a gentleman, then screw being a gentleman. I wouldn't have Ranma any other way.
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He dropped into a very chic office in a 20-story building to pick up some work related stuff. He'd offered to take me back to my apartment, but I stammered out a decline after he reassured me that until we established that no one was after me, he'd rather have me stick around. The office had that simple but expensive look. While I couldn't bring myself to terms with Ranma having an office, this was the office that - should he be forced into picking one - he would feel the most comfortable in.
I sat in one of the two chairs facing the mahogany desk as he sat down behind it and put his feet up, shuffling through his mail. Ranma had always been strong, but now I came to grips with how much he'd learned about survival. Here he was, doing something the old Ranma would never be pictured doing; going about as normal a life as he could bear to tie himself down to, and actually being very successful at it. Though in all honesty, I still thought of Ranma as good at anything. Was this the image he'd induced, or the image I wanted?
"I didn't know you kept in contact with Nabiki," I said, letting my mouth open as my thoughts roamed.
"I do some work for her, sometimes. Maybe it's for old time's sake." He grinned as he briefly glanced up from the laptop where he was now presumably checking his email. "Maybe because now I actually get paid for it, and it has nothing to do with revealing photographs."
"Do you really need her money? You seem to be doing well. So what do you get from her? Financial advice? Girl advice?" the last of which was, of course, my subtle way of screaming at him: have you got a girlfriend/fiancée/wife?
"Is that your way of asking if I'm involved with someone?"
Well, he was certainly a lot more observant than he used to be. "No."
"Then I won't tell you."
"Hey! You brought it up!"
"But YOU don't care." He smirked.
"That's right," I said haughtily. "I don't."
"So you don't need to know."
I SO needed to know, but I wasn't about to tell him that.
"Nabiki does give me business and financial advice, not to mention pays me well for various jobs. She also keeps me up to date on you Nerima people. We're actually pretty good friends now; but I'm beginning to suspect that she might have started to respect me, so I have no idea what is going on."
We smiled at each other and I felt that tingly, happy feeling again. He had such a sexy grin.
He shrugged on his leather jacket as we left the room. As he held open the door for me, he said, "No."
"No?"
"I don't currently have a girlfriend."
With my back to him, I allowed myself a small private grin. 'Small,' of course, in the sense that it didn't stretch all the way around my head, only because that's physically impossible.
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Once again in the car, Ranma leaned back in the leather driver's seat and exhaled. "I have work to do," he said, "so I'm going to have to drop you off at your apartment and - "
"Can't I come?"
"Akane," he sighed, "I'm a bounty hunter. This isn't a desk job where you can sit around in the office lounge and read a paperback and not get in the way. This is chasing criminals. You'll either get in the way, get shot, or both. Neither of which I'm enthusiastic about."
I pouted, and through his iron resistance I could see his resolve crumbling. Butter in my hands. "Please?" I asked, not pouring on the sweet factor to the point of being whiny and disgusting but still managing to ooze charm.
"Akane..." Ooh, he was gonna crack. "No." Or not.
"Ranma..."
"Akane, I can NOT knowingly endanger you."
"Ok, first of all, this is not a murderer, is it?"
He shook his head. "He hasn't killed anyone yet, but that doesn't mean he won't. He *was* armed."
"But - "
"Akane, I'm not arguing with you about this. You can't come."
"So you're going to leave me alone in my apartment?"
Ranma started hitting his head on the steering wheel. He couldn't take me with him and he couldn't leave me behind. Dilemma, dilemma...
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"Okay," Ranma said, "this is called a stun gun. You press these metal prongs against someone's skin, the gun omits an electrical charge, and the person you decided to play Franklin Kite with passes out."
"Is there any permanent damage?"
"No. But that doesn't mean you get to futz with it. It's a weapon, and should be treated like one."
"Like my hammer?"
"Bad example. Like a gun, only not so much."
"Yeah. Hey, why don't I get a gun?"
"Because you might shoot me."
I settled for sticking my tongue out at him, rather than zapping him with the stun gun. He, of course, pointedly ignored it.
"The guy we're going after," Ranma continued, "is an arsonist, but he's 65, so don't use the stun gun unless you have to. Old people aren't nearly so…durable."
"We're after a 65-year-old pyromaniac?"
"You got it, tomboy."
"Hey!"
"Force of habit. Plus it's true."
Rather than yelling at him, I chose a tactic that I had found subtler and more effective than melodramatic explosions. I gave him my biggest puppy- dog eyes and asked softly, "Do you really think so?"
I could tell that if the steering wheel had still been available, Ranma would have been banging his head against it again. "No. I just can't stop teasing you. I'm sorry; I don't say it to hurt your feelings."
Instantly I was perky again. "I wasn't upset! I just wanted to hear you admit it so I can hold it against you later."
"I really should have left you at your apartment."
"Probably."
"Maybe I should take you back right now."
"Probably. But you aren't going to, are you?"
Ranma sighed and shook his head.
"So he won't shoot at us?" I asked.
"Doubtful."
"What will he do?"
Ranma looked at me, and took his jacket off. "You aren't wearing leather, so there shouldn't be much of a problem. If you ARE wearing anything expensive, take it off. Let's go."
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"Samson, I know that you're in there!" Ranma pounded on the door of a ratty apartment fifteen minutes later, with me two feet behind him.
"You aren't going to kick the door down?"
"I only get to do that if they're uncooperative, which this guy usually is. Best part of my job, but I gotta give them a chance or I get in trouble."
"Ah."
Ranma turned back to the door. "SamSON!"
A diplomatic answer came through the door, showing us this man's willingness to be calm and reasonable. "FUCK OFF, SAOTOME!"
"He knows me," Ranma explained to me with a shrug, "because I've had to bring him in several times before. He'll set something on fire, get arrested, make bail, and then not show up for his court date. So then he'll get arrested again, and the cycle just keeps going around. But the good thing is that *now* I get to kick the door in."
The poor door never had a chance.
"Still got it," Ranma grinned at me.
"As if you ever had it," I told him.
He gave me his sexiest evil smile and said, "You wanna test me out before you stand by that remark?"
I blushed beet red and his grin widened. With a light laugh, he confirmed to himself, "Still got it."
"Pervert."
"Tomboy."
And we went into the apartment, where Samson's response was as polite as his words had led us to believe, inasmuch as he promptly sprayed us with a handy fire extinguisher. Ranma avoided it, but since I hadn't expected it I caught a full blast in the face.
"Gyaaaaaaaaah!"
"You should have stepped out of the way," Ranma told me calmly.
"You should have *warned* me!"
"I didn't know. Last time he had a Super Soaker filled with soy sauce. He said he was celebrating my ethnicity. Then he ruined my shirt."
"YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!" Samson howled, waving his arms above his head.
"You do the crime, you pay the time." Ranma told him firmly. "And you're lucky that I won't also make you pay her dry-cleaning bill. Besides, we both know that you only do this for the attention." He turned to me. "I figured we could deal with this guy your first time out because he's easy. He makes a big mess and a lot of noise, but in the end he's harmless."
All I could do was stare at him, the white foamy stuff from the fire extinguisher dripping off me. The man had no concept of where life ended and insanity began.
"This is because you guys lost the war, isn't it?" Samson sighed. "You guys are still pissed about that Hiroshima thing."
"Ignore him," Ranma advised me. "Getting arrested makes him cranky."
"I have the scoop on you people!" Samson yelled. "I've read 'Dave Barry Does Japan.' I know what's going on."
"Oh, brother..."
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"Here," Ranma said an hour later, as we walked out of the bond office he worked for, handing me a check.
"What's this for?"
"There was a bounty on Samson. You did some of the work, so you get some of the profits."
I looked at the check. I knew what Samson was worth, and it was exactly this much. Ranma had given me the whole bond. I looked at the check again, then up at him. "You did most of the work. Why did you give me all of it?"
He tsked to himself. "I was hoping you didn't know how much he was worth."
"Why don't you take some?"
"I don't need it. From what Nabiki tells me, you do."
"That's none of your business!" I hissed. "I don't want your charity!"
He shrugged. "I never pried Nabiki's mouth open. And it was your first takedown. I figured it was more to you than the routine it is to me."
"Oh yeah?" I snapped. "So what *did* you get out of it?"
He gave me a sideways smile. "The pleasure of your company."
He was trying to cheer me up, loosen me up, I knew. And suddenly I felt ashamed; here he was, doing something thoughtful for me at his own expense without me even asking for it or doing anything to deserve it, and I was getting angry with him because I was embarrassed. Just like old times. "Sorry," I whispered. "I guess the past five minutes haven't done much in that front, huh?"
"No problem. You wouldn't be you if you didn't manage to get pissed off at me on a regular basis. Keeps me on guard."
I marveled at how comfortable this new Ranma felt about being himself around me. Was it because he had come to grips with his feelings for me, or because those feelings had disappeared? The amount he was flirting with me kept my hopes alive for the first. My feelings were pushing me to let themselves be known with every smile he'd given me. But for the moment, I'd settled for flirting back. "Right," I said, "you just wanted to see me blasted with that fire extinguisher."
Ranma danced around me on the balls of his feet, his eyes dancing with them, and laughed, "Why would I want that? All that white foam covering your face? What a waste of a pretty face." I playfully grabbed his arm as I giggled, and all of a sudden we were nose-to-nose and all the playfulness was gone from his expression. His eyes had gone a deep blue, the grey almost completely receding in the intensity of color. My heart was beating at a gazillion miles an hour and my mind froze on that single, oh-so- anticipated-moment; he brushed a strand of hair from my face, we were leaning forward, he was going to *kiss* me...
And then he swore and backed away.
Damn, damn, damn, damn! "What?" I asked.
"Gosunkugi. He followed us." He turned to the alleyway 20 feet behind us and called, "I know you're there, so you may as well come out."
Hikaru Gosunkugi emerged from the alleyway, looking freaked out but resolved. I could tell just by looking at him that he had convinced himself that Ranma was guilty, and had taken into his own hands the duty of protecting me. I was not, however, in the mood to feel anything but murderous toward him because of what he had interrupted. Screw concern: Gos had messed up the chance of a lifetime, and I was as pissed as I could get in the 20 seconds I'd had to go from about-to-be-kissed to killing-the- little-bastard-with-no-sense-of-privacy. Ranma's face, of course, was unreadable.
"What's up?" Ranma said calmly.
"I know what you did," Gosunkugi quavered.
"That covers a lot of territory."
"You killed Hiroshi!"
Ranma's brows came together in an expression of complete confusion. "You think *I* killed Hiroshi?"
"You've done a lot of illegal stuff, and a lot of reporters would kill to get the evidence needed to nail you."
"Well first of all, I don't know what they'd kill for, but I would not kill to keep it quiet. Second of all, Hiroshi was my friend. Third of all, all you have backing up this theory of yours is random guesses. So I knew him. So did dozens of other people. And I haven't seen him in years anyway, so why would I decide to out of the blue find him and kill him?"
"You did it. He was an investigative reporter, you do illegal stuff, and he was asking questions about you! You had something to do with this story, and *you* are the one most capable of pulling something like this off."
Ranma was calm, but Gos was frantic and terrified; he really thought that he was facing down a murderer, I realized. But my mind was calming itself as Ranma punched holes in Gosunkugi's theory. Ranma *had* to be innocent.
"I don't care what you think," Ranma told Gos flatly, "and I have no interest in continuing this conversation. I am investigating this case in the interest of Akane's safety, and I do not plan to sit around and be called a murderer. Have a nice day, Gosunkugi, and leave us the hell alone." Ranma turned and walked to his car, and with a last glance at Gosunkugi, I scrambled after him.
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"Does he really think I did it?" Ranma asked me after five minutes of silence. We were headed back to the apartment after Gosunkugi's accusation, and the silence of the car had been oppressive. I certainly wanted to talk about something, but this was not exactly a conversation topic I'd been hoping for.
"Yeah. That's what he was talking to me in the theater about. He thinks that you're involved in a bunch of illegal stuff, and I guess he just hates you enough to come up with everything that might point at you."
Ranma shrugged, looking depressed and slightly peeved. "Well, he's right about one thing; I *have* been involved in stuff that is frowned on by the government and general law enforcement. But I don't do anything that I consider morally wrong, and I certainly didn't murder Hiroshi." He sighed, and suddenly looked much older, as if the chaos of his youth had finally caught up to him. "For me, friends are hard enough to come by without killing them off. And of course," another sigh, and now I could hear the age in his voice as well as see it on his face, "there is no higher price on oneself than that of taking another's life." He glanced quickly, sadly, at me, and added, "Even if it is to save someone else."
We rode in silence for a little longer, absorbed in what he'd said and what he'd left unsaid.
But then he spoke again, and I saw through his question the insecurity that lay beneath, the need for someone in his world to have faith in him. "Do you think I did it?"
"No," I said. "No, you didn't do it."
And, finally, I was completely sure of it. I was suddenly as certain he was innocent as I was suddenly aware that, without a doubt, I still loved him.
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"Do you want something to drink?" I asked him twenty minutes later, in my apartment. We had gotten back about ten minutes before, but Ranma had still been worried about me though he never said anything, and I was certainly in no hurry to send him on his merry way.
"That would be good," he said, leaning back on the couch.
I pulled two sodas out of the fridge and sat down next to him, not too close but not too far either, and handed him one of them. "So," I paused, "do you or the police have any theories about this?"
Ranma looked uncomfortable. "Akane..."
"What?"
"Well, the thing is, there's only one real suspect they have so far that there's solid evidence against, even if they haven't made any arrests."
"Who?"
"You."
I leapt to my feet. "*What?*"
"Akane, calm down."
"The police think that I murdered your friend, and you want me to calm down?!" I shrieked.
Ranma ran down the facts as I buried my face in my hands. "You discovered the body at two in the morning in a place you shouldn't have been anyway. There's no evidence to say the call was made, and even if there was, you were the only one known to be alone with the body and you didn't call the police when you found it. You say that Hiroshi was working on a big, dangerous story but his newspaper has no knowledge of it. You know more about what was going on with Hiroshi than anyone innocent should. You have no alibi, because Nabiki was asleep, and even the fact that you didn't wake her up looks incriminating." He shrugged. "If Gos looked at the facts instead of his past vendetta, he'd think you were guilty instead of me if he wasn't still in love with you."
Tears were coursing down my cheeks. I found myself echoing the question he'd asked in the car: "Do you think I did it?"
"No."
"How can you be so sure?" I was desperate to believe him but I didn't want comforting words. I wanted him to know, without a doubt, that I was innocent.
"Akane."
"Yes?"
"Did you kill Hiroshi?"
I exploded with fury and pain. "I thought you believed me!" I cried. "I thought you had faith in me! I thought that you trusted me! *I thought you thought that I was a good person!* I thought - "
"Akane," he cut me off, "did you kill Hiroshi?"
"NO!" I shrieked. How could he even ask? How could the person whose opinion mattered the most to me ask that question? Dry sobs wracked my body but the tears wouldn't come. "And you - "
I was cut off again as, lightening fast, he was off the couch and had his arms around me. "I believe you," he whispered into my hair, then kissed my forehead. "Shhh, Akane, don't cry, I believe you." And I knew he meant it.
I felt his arms hold me, gently but with a distinct possessiveness. This was the only place where I was safe, and I wanted to stay here, in his arms, forever.
Which was (of course) *exactly* the moment Nabiki and Joey walked in.
"Oh," Nabiki drawled, "la la."
"This isn't what it looks like," Ranma and I said in unison.
Argh! Did someone always have to interrupt just when things were getting interesting?
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Ranma filled in Nabiki on the various details of the day as I made my special a la Kraft Macaroni & Cheese and tried to keep it away from Joey, who happens to like to eat Mac & Cheese almost as much as he likes to eat empty Gatorade bottles and my shoes. Ranma, of course, lingered on the details of the Samson arrest, which Nabiki was thoroughly amused by.
Joey instantly adored Ranma, although as a general rule Joey instantly adores everyone. He was jumping up on Ranma and trying to lick his face, and Ranma has always had a great compatibility with dogs due to their traditional rivalry with cats. Actually, Joey is afraid of hyper little children and metro buses, but Ranma evidently did not fall into either category.
We talked little about the case; nothing had happened to indicate to us that the killer even had my name, so I was starting to slightly relax. Ranma told me to stay on guard, but even he, who had been fully ready all day in anticipation of me being shot at, seemed to be relaxing.
We sat down at the table and feasted on boxed dinner. Joey laid his head on Ranma's knee and made his eyes as big as he could. Ranma, however, kept all of his dinner for himself. His appetite hadn't changed, apparently, even if my ability to follow the simple directions on the side of a box had. I could now more or less follow a recipe, but Ranma and Nabiki amused themselves tremendously by pretending to die horrible, painful deaths at the hand of my cooking. Joey just hopped around, looking confused and barking. I went and fed the dog, stubbornly pretending to hold onto my dignity; there is something wrong with the sight of a bounty hunter in black jeans and a leather jacket pretending to die of food poisoning. However, they obviously did not care that I was ignoring them. They were laughing semi-hysterically when I bent over to put Joey's food bowl on the floor...
...and the window shattered and something whizzed by above me, right where my head had been.
A bullet?
"SHIT!" Ranma yelled, pushing Nabiki to the floor while she choked on her macaroni. "Akane, get down!"
I was completely immobile, though, so Ranma cursed as he leapt over and tackled me; we hit the ground hard and I winced. I was lying on my back, pinned beneath him, eyes shut tight in horror. A rain of bullets shattered my windows and hailed around us.
Nabiki screamed in one long, incessant stream, and I was waiting for her to run out of air and pass out. Actually, I think she was less scared than just being melodramatic.
You know, if I wasn't afraid for my life, and I wasn't about to have a *huge* bill for the trashing of the apartment, I would probably have thought this was very romantic.
The bullets finally stopped. I stared up into Ranma's eyes. When he had come so close to kissing me, they had cleared into mostly blue; now they were a cloudy grey, and I could read his concern for me in them. I was trembling and I had tears coursing down my cheeks.
"This *so* isn't my day," I whispered to him, and he smiled slightly.
"HEL-*LO*!" Nabiki called. She was sitting on the floor, and would have looked very sophisticated if an inch of her hair hadn't stuck up at the side of her face. "Could you two please have your trashy romance stuff on your own time, and preferably not when I have to watch it? Can we get a little attention for the hapless victim over here?"
Ranma stood up then held a hand out to me. I took it and he swept me up and into his arms, then stood back looking almost embarrassed. I was certainly blushing, but Nabiki looked nonplussed. "Save your romance for another time, little sister," she said, "'cause it looks like someone is after you after all..."
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END OF CHAPTER 3! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT! WAS IT GOOD? DID IT SUCK? I WANNA KNOW! Either R&R or mail me at nakigoe_chan@hotmail.com. I reply to all emails.
IN CHAPTER 4, FOUR TO SCORE:
(Wait...Four to SCORE?! No, not that, you perverts!) Ranma and Akane interview Hiroshi's coworker and snoop around the dead reporter's office. Gos stands by his theory, which leads to new revelations about Ranma. Ranma watches the play and gets hit on by Akane's coworkers. Oh, and one more little thing...no, I shouldn't tell you THAT. ^_^ And yes, I know all this because it's done and being edited.
Author's notes [Damn, can I ramble or what?!]:
I've gotten a few questions pertaining to 'After You.' So here's a fun little Q&A session...
Q1) Will this be Ranma/Akane?
A1) AY is a Ranma/Akane romance, because I believe very strongly in the couple (If you disagree, send me an email and I will be happy to tell you why I believe in no other pairing). However, you can't write a murder story and tell people it will have a happy or a miserable ending, because that takes away the suspense. This is a love story, but I make no guarantees for a happily-ever-after. If you wanna know, you'll have to stick around until the end of the ride, and it promises to be a pretty long ride.
Q2) Are you just winging this, or do you actually know what you're doing?
A2) I NEVER know what I'm doing. ^_~ Okay, the truth is both. I have specific events plotted out, I know the truth about the murder, I know who's guilty and who's not, I know how the story will end, I know how the climactic scene will play it self out, and I know the last line of the fic. I know what and where and when my evidence will show up. But as I write, plenty of the stuff that goes into this story is a surprise to me to. Most of the scenes are not planned, they just come.
Q3) Where did this fic come from? (One review said that it sounded like Fear Street, others have wondered about the play.)
A3) I have not read Fear Street in many, many years, and even when I did it held little appeal. But yes, this fic WAS inspired by a book series – my favorite book series - by Janet Evanovich. My writing style is similar to hers in many ways (esp. in TSAA) and my favorite character, Ranger, is a lot like the grown-up Ranma of AY, although that wasn't supposed to happen. I have never seen an occupation given to Ranma in ANY fic that I thought perfectly suited him. Bounty hunter worked best in my book, and as his character came into the story, Ranma's personality meshed with Ranger's (who is also a bounty hunter) more and more. But the JE books are the inspiration. As for the play Akane performs, 'After You' is a REAL PLAY. I have no rights to it, but the lines were what first planted the idea of this fic.
Q4) Will any other Ranma characters play a role?
A4) Umm...you'll certainly find out about what's happened to many of them in the past eight years. I'm trying to decide whether or not anyone will actually SHOW UP. I'm leaning toward yes. (Ryoga, for example, who can show up ANYWHERE, in any fic, because of his unique ability to wind up everywhere but where he's trying to be.)
Q5) Can anyone here say 'cliffhanger fetish?' What's your PROBLEM?
A5) Okay. I admit it. I LOVE putting cliffhangers in my stories. What fun! Although I didn't think this chapter's cliffhanger was bad. I warn you, however, that the worst of the cliffhangers are yet to come.
I hope you're enjoying the story so far. ^_~
~ nakigoe-chan