Author's Note:
This one-shot takes place during Episode 12: Precious Illusions and was inspired by something my husband had said during a conversation of ours about WHR concerning how Amon could so easily figure out all of the STN-J cases.
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Standing tucked around a corner and just out of sight inside an empty alley, the man clad predominantly in black waited impatiently for his contact to appear. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, listening closely for the sound of footsteps. It was just like the contact to make him wait, forcing him to remember the sting of having to return to this source every time he needed a little extra help. Usually, he had little difficulty figuring out a case. It was this uncanny knack that made partners and associates alike constantly wary of him. But sometimes the innate ability failed him. When that happened, the Hunter would turn to the one person he absolutely did not want to see; the person who could always bring out that loathsome feeling of self-doubt and quasi-guilt for his current profession.
Witches. Seeds. Craft users. It was easiest for Amon not to ponder over the small and blurry line which separated those words; what it truly meant to be a Hunter of Solomon. However, there were times that he just could not shake off the feeling that something was amiss within the organization. He shifted against the wall, absently stamping his foot as he waited. Amon's mind turned to the situation that had brought him here to this vacant alleyway of the Walled City in the first place.
This case now...
Amon had thought the situation with the Walled City was over and done with. However, this little incident had transpired and he could not stop thinking that something quite bad was happening right under his nose. And it always seemed to come back to that damn girl. Why had she gone back to Walled City anyway? What information was so important that she felt she had to go alone? Shock had not even begun to describe how Amon had felt when he was informed that morning she was missing. More disturbingly, he had even felt a small pang that she had not forced him to go with her as she had done on previous occasions.
That girl. There was something about her that Amon could not put his finger on. No matter how hard he tried, she always managed to get under his skin; made him hesitate before he called Touko for a late dinner after work. She would sometimes even come unbidden to his thoughts before he fell asleep at night. Why that could be was elusive and particularly troubling to Amon. Before he could ponder the matter further, a shadow fell across him, partially blocking out the light streaming into the alleyway.
"Long time, no see," the cocky voice greeted.
Amon rolled his eyes and turned his head towards the sound. He was greeted by the sight of an annoyingly bulky and bright white coat.
"Why do you insist on wearing that thing, Nagira?" he asked, exasperated. "And it's only been a week since I last called you," Amon added as an afterthought.
"Well," Nagira began, then became distracted as he lit up a cigarette. He paused, looking at it a moment before making a motion that indicated that he was offering one to Amon. His younger brother shook his head and Nagira returned to the subjects at hand. "Well," he repeated, "you wear black and I wear a white coat. It's kind of like yin and yang. I balance your negativity and lack of humour with positivism and abundant wit."
Nagira started to chuckle, then trailed off as he took in Amon's stern face. He rolled his eyes. "All business, aren't we? Alright, what do you want this time?"
"There's an old woman in the Walled City. You probably already know who I'm speaking of."
Taking another drag on his cigarette, Nagira gazed thoughtfully at his younger brother. "You don't mean Methuselah, do you?"
Amon nodded. "Do you know exactly where she might be found?"
"Hmm. All I know is that she wanders around the Walled City quite a bit. I don't actually know where she lives, but I should be able to track down that information fairly easily." He took a pause. "What has she done?"
At this, Amon hesitated, debating how much he should tell Nagira. "We believe one of our agents may be under her control."
"Your face – you seem rather agitated or, dare I say, worried," Nagira commented. "Especially considering it's an old woman we're discussing."
Amon face reflexively turned into a frown as he glowered at his brother. "I'm not worried or agitated. It's just important that we find her – our agent, I mean."
Mentally cursing in his head, Amon could not believe he had let such information slip. He did not need Nagira meddling with his personal business. But when exactly had Robin become a part of his personal business? She was his partner and nothing more, a voice quietly reminded in his mind.
Nagira raised an eyebrow. "It's a her?" he asked curiously. "Your latest partner, perhaps?"
Amon did not give Nagira the benefit of responding. After another moment of silence, Nagira merely sighed at his stubborn younger brother.
"You've begun to act rather oddly as of late." Nagira took out another cigarette and lit up. "What's with this new partner of yours that makes you so concerned? Oh, why do I even bother asking in the first place?" He turned to glare at Amon. "You don't want me in your life, yet you insist on coming to me for information. At this point, I don't even know why I continue to help you. I don't agree with what you or your organization does. In fact, maybe I shouldn't help you this time, so that new partner of yours can have done to her what your organization does to witches."
Immediately, Amon's head came up, eyes narrowing and hands clenching at his side. "You wouldn't. That's not your style."
Nagira tossed his partially consumed cigarette to the ground in anger. Tiny embers scattered as it hit the pavement, glowing faintly for a moment, then quickly fading away. Slowly, he turned to face Amon fully, his expression finally revealing his anger and irritation within. They stared each other down, both stubbornly attempting to maintain control of the situation.
"You're right, I wouldn't do that." Nagira shook his head. "Don't you have any guilt at what you're doing, who you're helping? Solomon is not a good organization." He reached out and took a hold of Amon's shoulder, looking directly into his face. "One day, I guarantee you little brother, they will take something of yours and you will have to stand there and watch it happen. Or worse, you will be the one required to do the deed. That day you will hate yourself and regret ever being a part of Solomon and their lies."
"I have no intentions of doing anything with the witch; we just need to find our agent." Amon pushed Nagira's hand off his shoulder. His eyes faltered and slid to one side. "I no longer have a say in my future. I couldn't leave Solomon at this point even if I wanted."
"What a cop out," Nagira muttered under his breath. "They've taken your mother; they've taken your partners – who knows? They probably took our fa-"
"Can you get me the information?" Amon broke in angrily. "If not, I'll find someone else who can get me what I need."
Nagira dropped his head, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Yes. I should be able to track down the old woman's location within an hour or so. I'll send you a text message once I get it." He sighed. "Could you answer me one thing?"
Amon had turned to leave and even taken a few steps towards the main road, but stopped at Nagira's question. "What is it?"
"Why do you keep coming back to me for help?"
"I'm…not sure," Amon answered lowly without turning around.
Nagira gave a rueful smile. "I guess that's the best I'm going to get. Just one more question then."
Amon tossed a look over his shoulder. "Yes?" he asked in his usual clipped tone.
"You must care about your new partner quite a bit." Nagira studied him closely as he spoke, causing Amon's skin to crawl. "You do seem rather worried about her."
"That sounds more like a faulty observation than a question," Amon commented, finally turning towards Nagira. "You know that I don't care about any one. You told me that yourself."
Nagira cocked his head to the side. "That's true, I did say that once. However, you've gone far out of your way to track her down by coming to me for help."
"I assure you, it's not what you think."
"Really?" Nagira responded with a knowing smile he could not hide.
"She's fifteen," Amon responded defensively. "She's also foreign. That's why we need to find her"
Immediately, Nagira's face changed. "Hmm, hadn't expected that one." He stared at Amon a moment. "Still, there's been something off with you recently. I can't put my finger on it, but it's like you're distracted by something…or someone."
"Nothing is different about me. It's just your hope that I will turn towards your way of thinking – or get married."
Suppressing his anger, Nagira tried again to verbally reach out to Amon. "You know, if anything ever happens with Solomon – something you can't handle by yourself – you can always come to me for help."
"The offer is unnecessary." Turning on his heel, Amon strode out from the alley, pausing as he stepped onto the main throughway. "Send me the information once you have it."
Nagira stared after Amon a moment, before extracting his mobile phone and another cigarette. He clumsily lit the cigarette with one hand and fumbled around with the phone with the other, his mind distracted. Amon never ceased to infuriate him. Nagira swore that Amon had turned these little meetings of theirs into a game to see just how much he could make his older sibling angry.
Yet, there had been more to this particular meeting than Amon had wanted to admit. Something seemed to have been building within Amon over the past couple of months, becoming more apparent to Nagira with every meeting. What exactly had happened to his kid brother? Gone was the resolute and stoic man Nagira knew. Amon had become more preoccupied and a wee bit chaotic. It was obvious that he was concerned for his latest partner, yet he had vehemently denied it. Nagira had sensed an odd mixture of fear and affection within Amon for the girl, causing him to wonder what was so special about her to make Amon worry. Moreover, Nagira had the distinct feeling that Amon had lied about something during their conversation…or more aptly, it was quite possible that his brother had lied to himself about that something.
Still…his younger brother kept coming back to him for help no matter the situation. And quite possibly it was more than just that. Maybe Nagira had succeeded in planting a kernel of doubt in that stubborn head. However, it didn't change the fact that Amon unapologetically insisted on acting like a complete dick to his older brother. There was no excuse for that sort of behaviour.
"Jackass," he mumbled around the cigarette as he began to dial a number for one of his contacts.