Disclaimer: Only in my dreams. . .
Author's Note: Hiya guys!
Sorry it took so long to update. In addition to school work, planning for and going to the ACen convention, my drama class's play (working day and night on The 15 Minute Hamlet. It was fun!), and being engrossed in a new book series— I've been busy writing one shots and not chapters. I recently had this huge surge of ideas for Mediator fics (the book series I'm now really into), an Inu-Yasha one shot, and a new Chrono Crusade chapter fic/one shots. So I've been in the middle of a lot of writing projects. Heh heh. . . gomen ne! (One of those Mediator fics, a few of the Chrono Crusade fics, and the Inu-Yasha one shot are up now, if anyone's interested. Okay, self plug is done, I swear!)
. . . PLEASE FORGIVE ME! T.T
Anyway, now that the groveling for forgiveness portion of the chapter is over with, I want to thank everyone for being so patient with me. I know it's been hard. . . and I really DO appreciate it! I love you all!
And so, without further ado, I give you. . . chapter four. Enjoy! XD
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DOUBLE TROUBLE
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Chapter Four: Sexual Harassment
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He used to wonder, back when the expression was used frequently in his presence (mainly by Joshua, talking about Rosette's newest enemy), where the term "cold shoulder" had come from. Really, what did shoulders have to do with anything? And cold? The person was mad at you, not stuffing ice cubes down your shirt. There was no reason for a lack of heat to play into ignoring someone.
Or so he'd thought.
But now that he had "the sandy end of the lollypop in his mouth" (as his Contractor would have said), he knew exactly why the phrase had stuck. It made perfect sense. In fact, the translation of the idiom was almost literal. Why else would his double's back be turned to him, shoulders stiff? Why else would his insides be frozen, yet writhing? Why else would the silence be so thick?
Little Chrono glared into space, fiddling with the yellow ribbon on the end of his braid. 'Stupid idiot,' he thought, peeved; while glaring at his doppelganger's reflection in the mirror propped before him. The Sinner's tense muscles, blanketed by a jacket of black leather, glistened dully in the candlelight of the Elder's cabin. He continued to scorn the violet-locked demon that was determinedly attempting to use the tiny, cracked looking glass to fix his hair for the night. Seeing as how his plait had become nothing more than a coil of vertebrae, the fully transformed Chrono had nothing to worry about.
Except listening to the frustrated grunts of his childish counterpart, that was. And it was getting rather annoying.
"A—applesauce. . ." the tinier one snarled, vainly swinging his arms behind his back. The position, both uncomfortable and ineffective, only served to fuel his general bad mood. "Why can't I get this stupid—! Rgh!" Releasing a pent up cry of frustration, the sealed devil flopped backwards, panting. . . allowing his very loose hair to cushion his fall. "This is pathetic. . ."
"No kidding," Big Chrono muttered under his breath, his vow of muteness seemingly forgotten. "You're just sad, you know that?"
Little Chrono tilted his chin up a bit, which allowed him to glare coldly at his other half. "Dry up! I don't see you offering to help!"
The Sinner smirked slightly, turning on his rear in one fluid motion; resting his cheek lightly against the back of his hand. His remaining fingers began to drum upon the wooden floor beside the stone hearth, where a warm fire had been stoked into life an hour ago—right before the Elder left to perform some more experiments on the split Remingtons. (Scientists. . . strange little creatures, they were. Why anyone would want to be by those two was a mystery.) "Well, you never asked, did you?"
". . ." The younger-looking demon blinked once, twice. . . then grunted, mildly embarrassed. "I . . . I guess I didn't, did I?" he grudgingly admitted after a moment or two, tired arms dangling limply at his sides.
"Mmm, no," Adult Chrono agreed, not bothering to mask his humor the slightest. "But on the other hand, you were right: I never offered, either. So we're square." Then—before the child-like devil could respond—the Sinner had grabbed the end of his very messy braid and yanked, tugging Little Chrono towards him. (Luckily, the pine planks were slick with wax; without it, that maneuver would have been much more painful than necessary.) "Now, where'd you stash the comb?"
To say he was surprised would be an understatement. The smaller devil, who appeared for a second to be frozen in shock, gaped blankly—before soundlessly pointing to the worn silver brush next to a few dried logs. Using his bone-like appendage to grab the indicated item, Big Chrono started to untangle his double's knotted hair; face emotionless but eyes intent.
A second hush fell—a different soundlessness than previously, but full of just as much tension. The fire crackled merrily, but the warmth fell short of the two young men. For though the actions of the Sinner were generous, neither pretended that the offer had been selfless. Big Chrono simply wanted his counterpart to shut up.
Little Chrono squirmed slightly, but more from physical discomfort than nerves. His other half wasn't being very gentle. . . not that he had expected him to, or anything. Still, when the Sinner yanked haphazardly through a particularly large snarl, LC couldn't help but release a pent-up yelp. "Ouch! Geez, be more careful will you?" Putting his hand on the back of his skull and pulling his hair free from the 'evil clutches' of his doppelganger, the sealed demon shot a very nasty look over his shoulder. "Even Rosette at her maddest wouldn't be so harsh!"
The Sinner scowled; his grip on the comb tightening to such a degree that it almost snapped in half. "Don't speak of my Contractor in such a flippant manner," he murmured warningly, tawny eyes narrowing. "You have no right to mention her name."
"?" This unexpected proclamation made the second stiffen . . . then snort, torn between amusement and exasperation. "What do you mean? She's MY Contractor, too. And why shouldn't I say her name? What should I call her by instead? 'Girl'? 'Sister'? 'Nun with Gun'?" Little Chrono laughed bitterly, though he looked disgusted. "Tell me, what gives you the authority to decree how I should address by Master?"
"Because I know what I'm talking about," Big Chrono retorted sourly, taking a handful of violet hair and beginning to roughly plait the strands. "And I know that you should leave her alone!"
"Why?" the child bit back, tilting his head dramatically so that his neck didn't feel so sore. "So you can have her all to yourself? So you can do all of those things to her that you know deep inside that you want to?"
The taller of the two choked, body beginning to tremble with poorly suppressed emotion. "Th—that's not true!"
LC smirked, though furious, as he felt his other's hands grow rigid. "You can't lie to me, you know— I once had those thoughts, too; especially when the Seal was broken. Her scent drives you wild, doesn't it? A body fit for anyone to mate with, for a devil or a mortal—that's what you're thinking. And now that her monthly blood is over—!"
That was the last straw. Before either had realized what was going on, someone—most likely the Sinner—had thrown a wild, angry punch that the other instinctively managed to block. Then, that same other retaliated with a right hook, which inevitably resulted in a wrestling match on the floor— both demons utilizing every ounce of energy, strength, and speed they possessed.
The fire continued to pop pleasantly in the background, but was drowned out by the grunted screams and cries of horror, disgust, and pain from the divided Chronos.
"I SAID: DON'T SAY HER NAME AGAIN!" Big Chrono roared; pressing the child's face into the ground as LC struggled fiercely, eyes flashing and fangs lengthening.
"OH YEAH? AND WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT, YOU BASTARD?" the second bellowed, managing to swing his elbow powerfully enough so that it both connected with his double's temple and made him see stars. In that moment of disorientation, the smaller of the two managed to roll over, getting to his feet. "Well, listen to this, have a spasm, and DIE: ROSETTE, ROSETTE, ROSETTE, ROSETTE, RO—SE—TTE!"
"STOP IT!" the Sinner demanded, knocking the kid back down again—but not before the clone managed to give his sensitive wings an overly severe jerk. "STOP IT, AND LEAVE HER BE!"
"I REPEAT," Little Chrono screeched as the two began to wrestle wildly on the ground, claws joining the fray. "WHY SHOULD I? SO YOU CAN HAVE HER?"
"I swear—I don't want her like that!" BC grunted, grabbing his doppelganger's fists in order to keep from having his nose broken. "And NEITHER SHOULD YOU!" Accelerating suddenly, true-form Chrono managed to catch the child's arms behind his back, locking him firmly in place. "Think. . ." he panted in LC's ear, both falling to their knees from exhaustion. "Think of Magdalene. . ."
". . ." The sealed devil instantly stilled, his breath catching in his throat. His limbs—which had still been struggling ferociously—went limp in the Sinner's hold. "Magdalene. . ." he whispered, more of a statement than anything else. "Magdalene. Magdalene. . .
. . . Is dead."
Big Chrono—who had been just about ready to release his restrain on the child—instantly tightened his grasp again. "W-what?" he forced out, unexpected nausea having winded him. Never—never so bluntly—!
"Oh, don't act like that," the child muttered, sounding irritated. Regardless, his head hung low; so as not to meet his other half's eyes. "You know that she's gone. And. . . you also know that there's nothing we can do to bring her back. There's nothing we can do to change what happened. Magdalene, no matter how important she is to us, is part of the past. . .and if we don't act now, Rosette will be, too!" Tongue darting out to moisten his chapped lips, the sealed devil took a shuddering breath. "I don't want. . . to lose someone else I care so much about, without at least letting her know how I feel. I may have loved Magdalene. I may care for her still. But that doesn't change the fact that I love Rosette—and if she loves me back, I plan to make something of our relationship." He paused after say thing this, waiting for the answer he was sure would come.
And it did.
". . . H-ow. . . ? How. . . ?" the Sinner shuddered, a snarl working its way up his throat. "How? How can you be so cruel!"
"Me?" the other gaped. "YOU are the one being cruel—both to Rosette and yourself! Don't you see the look in her eyes? Don't you feel the ground dropping away when she smi—?"
"SHUT UP!" Big Chrono roared, his fingers tightening so fiercely that the kid's wrists almost broke. "I cannot BELIEVE a part of myself would ever think of betraying Magdalene! Of hurting Rosette any more—thrusting your inconsequential feelings onto her!"
"They aren't— inconsequential if she feels the same! And—I'm not—betraying Magdalene!" the child shouted, his face contorted in agony. "She's GONE! There's nothing—!"
The Sinner's glower intensified. In fact, it looked as if he were about to cry. "We can honor her memory!"
"What—by being miserable the rest of our lives? By never moving on?" Little Chrono retorted dryly, flexing his toes rapidly to distract from the jolts of pain shooting up and down his arms. "You know she wouldn't have wanted that!"
"How do you know what she'd have wanted—especially for us!" BC cried, a single tear of frustration slipping down his cheek. "She's dead because of what we did!"
The sealed devil stared coldly; face set in solemn frown as he glanced in his clone's direction. ". . . Because. . . I knew Magdalene. And she would never wish ill on anybody. . . not even us."
". . ." Big Chrono released his other half with a muffled growl, turning away without another word. The room, for the third time that night, became still.
It was time to say goodnight.
Little Chrono—who's hair had never ended up getting done—sighed wearily, massaging his wrists before heading towards his room, about to shut the door when he heard a low hissing. He paused, but didn't bother to turn and face the speaker.
"I promise you, you vile brat. . ." the Sinner spat, his voice carrying easily through the quiet house, "that if anything happens to Rosette. . . I'll kill you."
"Ditto," the smaller demon answered calmly. And then he left for bed.
But neither, it turned out, did much sleeping that night. . . so full were their heads of memories, hopes, regrets, dreams. . . and fear—that his other half may have been right.
X
The next day dawned bright and sunny, without a cloud in the sky. Wasn't it funny how the weather so rarely mirrored one's mood? The Sinner huffed slightly, glaring at a singing bird in an aspen tree from the breezeway. Life was never like books, he darkly mused; where it was rainy during bad times, sunny during good times. . . and a jovial "happily ever after" awaited the characters once they'd completed their adventure. What bull. . . You'd think that writers would clue in, by now.
Whatever.
"Chr—er, Mr. Sinn— no. . . Oh, whatever I'm supposed to call you!"
"Mary!"
"What? Anna, I don't know— you say something, if you're so perfect!"
"Oh, you're both hopeless. . ."
Big Chrono— though groggy, cranky, and overall feeling pretty pissed off (stupid purple haired brat)— turned around and grinned amusedly at the antics of Sisters Claire, Mary, and Anna, who were shuffling cautiously up to him with identical expressions of trepidation. "Yes?" he inquired politely, voice gentle and soothing.
Their faces almost instantly relaxed. He didn't seem so dangerous. . . What sort of a devil could smile so kindly? "Um, well, Rosette's looking for you," Anna chirped, cheeks pink as she glanced towards her twiddling thumbs. "Something about marching orders."
"Yeah!" Mary added, lips curling into her patented, cat-like beam. "There's a disturbance at downtown! Sister Kate says you need to go now!"
The Sinner faltered, momentarily surprised, before saying: "Uh. . . sure. All right. But—where's Rosette?" Why hadn't she come to tell him herself?
"Oh, she had to go recruit your. . . uh. . . other half," Claire informed him in her usual placid whisper. "Sister Kate wants all of y—ou. . . to. . go. . ." Her voice suddenly trailed off, the confused tone matching the look on her cocked head. For, not even a second before, the incredibly tall demon had been standing in front of her and her friends. And now, he was gone: having disappeared in the blink of an eye.
". . . Well, that was different," Anna smirked slightly. "Rush often?"
"Wow! That was the bee's knees!" Mary squealed while poking the spot the Sinner had been standing with her foot. "I wanna learn how to do that! Poof!" Waving her arms wildly, the blonde nun giggled.
Rolling her eyes, Claire began to walk off, wondering what in Heaven's name was going on in this convent, and why she had yet to be informed.
X
Sister Kate was at her wits end.
Seriously.
This time she actually was.
Oh, sure, she had said so before—and she thought she had meant it before—but even having to deal with Rosette, the Sister of Destruction, had never been quite so horrible as this. Of that, she was most certain.
"REM—ING—TON!" she bellowed, grabbing the golden haired minister ruthlessly by the ear. The man, who had been chatting rather lecherously (if that was even possible) with a young novice, yelped; trying to escape with a pathetic whimper. "What in GOD'S NAME are you DOING?"
"Owowowowow, my darling Sister, don't look so jealous!" the hansom father begged, cowering under the woman's steely gaze. "I was—uh—only helping her find her way to the bathroom!"
"Sister Amelia has been a member of this convent for over a year, Remington, and so, as you very well know, she needs no assistance in finding her way to the toilet! Isn't that right, Sister?" Kate snapped her cold gaze upon the very nervous looking redhead who had been attempting a quiet escape as the two bickered. Unfortunately for her, she'd only managed to step around one of the mess hall's tables before being addressed. Curses.
"Uh. . ." Amelia faltered, wringing her hands nervously. "T—that's right. . . ?" Swallowing hard, the poor girl's heart-shaped face began to turn an even brighter shade of magenta, making her appear more like a Valentine than ever. "I—I mean, I do know where the bathrooms are, but. . . um. . . that wasn't. . . that wasn't what he had been—"
But she cut herself off abruptly when she noticed Remington Two making wild, desperate, slashing motions across his throat. Too abruptly, it seemed, for Kate became suspicious right away.
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?" she shrieked, visibly appalled as she began to swing the man violently around, merely by jostling his ear lobe. "YOU WERE SEXUALLY HARASSING MORE SISTERS? After the talking I gave to you not twenty minutes ago? What's WRONG with you? DID YOU ALREADY FORGET?"
"Uh. . ." Father Remington, doubled over in pain, considered for a moment. "Yeah. Yes, I forgot."
Steam nearly shot out of the good Sister's ears. "It was a rhetorical question!"
"Oh." Number 2, again, pondered this for a moment. ". . . Then why did you ask at all?"
". . ." She simply stared at him, teeth gnashing, free fist clenching a handful of air.
3. . .
2. . .
1. . .
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!"
"What? What is it?" At the sound of Kate's scream, the first Remington came bounding in from the nearby library, looking politely puzzled over his half-moon reading glasses. In his arms he held a book of DaVinci's masterpieces, which he had been scouring for clues relating to their newest spiritual mystery. "Are you all right, dear Sister Kate?"
Kate spun around to face him, the one standing calmly in the doorway, with her habit rumpled and her expression livid. Her grip on Remington 2's ear had yet to loosen. "NO," she snapped, "NO, I am NOT all right. I cannot work under these conditions! The other sisters cannot work under these conditions! I can't TAKE IT ANYMORE!"
Remington 1 blinked, nonplussed. His clone grinned happily and waved at him, still bent at the side—as the sister had yanked his ear to the same level as her hip. "I. . . see. Is my worthless double pestering you? My deepest, most sincere apologies." He shot his doppelganger a nasty glare before making a soothing noise in the back of his throat. "Well, let's go somewhere else, then, so that everyone can get work done. Heaven forbid we disrupt the other exorcists."
"WHAT. ABOUT. HIM," Kate forced out acidly, kneeing the rouge minister in the stomach when he attempted to slide his hand beneath her slip. "Where'll HE go?"
The first priest sighed deeply, though kept on a brave face. "We'll just take him with us and keep an eye on him. Luckily, if kept in plain sight, he will be deterred from flirting with everything that breathes."
"What?" Remington the second, for the first time, sounded highly offended. "I do NOT flirt with everything that breathes! . . . I was flirting with the paintings, too." He giggled, as if he'd just come up with the wittiest joke in the world.
Sister Kate appeared to be about to vomit.
But, in the end, she had little choice in the matter. The fact was, both Remingtons were causing too much of a distraction to be allowed to run free. Remington One was simply too intelligent and . . . well. . . religious. Not only had he offended many of the other members of the Order when bluntly pointing out serious flaws in all of their plans, he had then spent the rest of his time chasing down those who muttered anything even slightly sexual and slapping them over the head with his Bible. Remington Two, on the other hand, had wasted his time doing just the opposite—playing pranks on the exorcists and, as his counterpart had so tactfully put it, "forcing his 'sexual prowess' on the poor, unsuspecting world." Which was true. The second didn't even try to deny it—in fact, he bragged about it. He bragged and then did it some more.
Which, in all honestly, was unbelievably irksome.
Almost as irksome as Confessions had been that morning, in which Father 1 had called every Confessor a "SINNER! SINNER! HORRIFIC, DAMNED SINNER! A POSSESSED HORROR!" and Father 2 had given all of the Sisters sex advice; naming off a number of the ways to really drive guys crazy. Which, needless to say, had been quite disturbing. . . but not as disturbing as the fact that many of the girls seemed to take his words seriously. Much too seriously than they should have, really.
At least Sister Rosette hadn't been there. . . the last thing that girl needed was a list of ways to "successfully lay" Chrono.
The mere thought made Kate shudder with disgust.
Anyway, that was the story behind how she had gotten to where she was—locked in her office with two certifiably insane men (though the Elder had denied all suggestions of their madness last night when he had been examining their brainwaves and all of that scientific stuff). It was Hell.
Really, it was.
And, though she knew she had done some bad things in her life, Kate was sure she'd never done anything horrible enough to deserve this.
"Would you two," she groused, trying her best to keep her mind on the letter she was writing to the San Francisco branch, "please stop, all ready?"
The two ministers—who had been squabbling loudly near the door, mostly under their breath—froze, as if surprised that she could hear them. But truthfully, even whispering they were extraordinarily loud. Irritatingly so. She shot them an icy glance from over her spectacles, speaking (relatively) calmly, but firmly. Sometimes, she even amazed herself with her acting skills. "Remington, stop yelling at Remington! I know Remington is annoying, but he's made it perfectly clear that no amount of talking will making him change his ways. And Remington, I don't care how sexy the drapes OR the sisters are to you, you will NOT continue down this perverted path!"
Taking a deep breath, she returned her stare to the paper before her, dipping the end of her pen in her ink bottle. At least, that had been her intent— but her attempt at thoughtful contemplation and literary composition was rudely interrupted by a soft "ahem" and the slight jostling of her desk that indicated someone placing something on it. In this case, a chin—which was cushioned by a set of crossed arms and a very gentle grin.
Remington—presumably number two, seeing as number one rarely smiled—was crouched before her, looking both understanding and cheerful. "I'm ever so sorry, my sultry Sister," the man breathed smoothly, tilting his head in an "innocent" way. "I never meant to bother as I must have. And I certainly didn't intend to anger you, so."
Kate sucked in her cheeks, not entirely sure that she enjoyed being refereed to as "sultry". But, by the same token, she couldn't find it in herself to protest. It would simply take too much effort. Instead, she put on an unconvinced face and set her pen down, placing one of her hands on top of the other. "I see," she then drawled, concentrating so totally on the second of the pair that she did not notice Remington one's—well, envious— scowl. "Thank you for your apology, Father, but I'm afraid that your words simply aren't good enough. You are going to have to convince me to forgive you through actions. Actions such as behaving. . . ?" Her light, suggesting tone did not go unnoticed. Remington 2 smirked slightly, amused.
But he didn't seem to be thinking along the same lines as she was. "Actions. . . ?" he murmured softly, gradually pushing himself to his feet; leaning over the edge of the desk so that their faces were barely 6 inches apart. "I suppose you have a point. I have heard that actions speak louder than words. . ."
Then he began, ever so leisurely, to descend upon her—not fast enough for Kate herself to notice, but certainly enough for his other half to. Which he did.
And he did not like what he saw.
"DON'T YOU TOUCH HER, VILE DEMON!" he screeched, chucking his book on DaVinci at the back of his dopplegenger's blonde head. The volume connected effortlessly with its target, resulting in a hollow 'thunk'ing sound before bouncing off of his skull, skidding across the floor, and bashing into a corner.
Utter silence fell in the room. Until slowly. . . very, very slowly. . . Remington 2 turned around.
He looked pissed. Well, that happened when someone/thing without feminine parts touched his hair. His blue eyes flashed, fingers clenching into tight balls. Kate, who was looking more confused than anything by now, glanced from one minister to the other, pushing an inch or two away from her desk. "Um. . . Remington? Remington? What are yo—?"
"WHAT," Remington 2 hissed, taking a step towards his counterpart, "was THAT for, Father?"
"I believe," the other retorted coolly, approaching just as fearlessly, "that you already know why."
"I'm afraid I don't."
"Oh, yes, you do."
Both glared, sparks crackling between them.
Then they humphed and spun away from the other, as if nothing had happened. But something had—something big had obviously taken place. For it was then, Kate noticed, that both of the men began fighting.
Not physically. They didn't lift a finger against the other, actually. If anything, they were abnormally polite. Oh, no—instead they began fighting. . .
For her attention.
Usually, Kate would forcibly deny such claims. No two men, after all, would be so interested in her that they'd quarrel over who she was paying more heed to at any given moment. At least, that's what she'd thought. . . But if that was the case, then why was it that whenever Remington One began talking to her, or showing her a clue related to the mission, Remington Two would begin to give her a foot rub? Or when she kicked off The Second, yelling at him to keep his hands to himself, The First would suddenly need her help looking up a particular artist or passage from the Bible? Or when she was in the middle of assisting Father 1, Father 2 would try holding her right hand?
Then Remington the First would grab her left hand. . .
And the other would give her a small jerk his way. . .
And his clone would give her a tiny yank the other way. . .
They shot each other vicious stares, growling while they played tug-of-war with her. Kate, in turn, couldn't think of anything to say or do while this happened, as she was in a strange state of shock. What on Earth was going on?
"Would—you—let—go?" the serious father grunted, leaning forward so that his forehead bashed into his counterpart's. They continued to wrench the Sister's arms. "She's too good for a flirt like you! She needs a solemn, holy warrior!"
"NO," the wild child countered, sounding just as aggravated. "She needs someone who can show her how to have FUN once in a while! Tell her that it's okay to cut loose!"
"I'm right HERE you know!" Kate couldn't help but grumble, though she, in all honestly, was still feeling rather bewildered. Why would anyone—especially Remington—be. . . well. . . fighting over. . . over. . .
"She wants me!"
"No, me!"
"Me!"
"Me—I'll prove it to you!"
"No, I'll prove it to YOU!"
It was in that moment that both of the men; who had still been staring down the other in very close proximity; turned to face her, identical sparks in their eyes as they simultaneously bowed low—
And pressed their lips to hers.
"?"
CRACK!
Kate's eyes, which had seconds before been wide with shock, jammed shut instinctively when a huge flash of light filled the room—
And suddenly, only one mouth was covering her own.
". . ." Father Remington; the one, the only, the SINGULAR Father Remington; pulled jerkily away from the Sister, noticing their position. He was towering over her, having locked her in her chair with his limbs; which he'd placed on the arm rests to support his weight. She, in return, was leaning back in her seat; dark pools bugged out and body stiff, her face more pink than it had ever been in her life.
". . ." She stared blankly at him from behind her glasses, noting with mild interest that his cheeks were red, too.
"U-uh. . ." Remington swallowed, carefully prying himself away from Kate as he noticed the dawning realization spreading across her face. She did not look happy. "Si-Sister Kate, please, allow me to explain. . ."
"REMINGTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!" she shouted, voice strangled and high pitched; face burning with embarrassment and astonished shock. "Y-YOU—!" But, despite her best, spluttered attempts to form a protest or argument following his name and 'you', she couldn't make another sound. So instead, she simply took out her angered frustration in the only other way she could think of: by thoroughly beating the tar out of him.
Sister Rosette would be so proud.
X
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X
And now, Q&A!
Question: "OH MY GOODNESS! The ending to Wendy Girl made me cry. Is it real? Or just something you made up?"
Answer: Nope, as I mentioned, I based if off of the lyrics of the Chrono Crusade song 'Windy Girl' which is sung by the Japanese Radio Drama Rosette, with Radio Drama Az in the background. If anyone is interested in seeing the lyrics, I can post them with the next chapter.
Question: "I read somewhere once that you have no clue how the series ends, and haven't read past a few novels. Is that true? Well, there's a website I recently found called "Astral Contract A Chrno Crusade Fansite." It has translated scanilations of the entire mangas up to book #5 or 6, and even after have important chapter summaries of the entire series, excluding the epilogue. There are wallpapers, images, fanfiction, fanart, music, and a lot of other cool stuff. you should check it out! I warn you though, it's very easy to get hooked on that site."
Answer: I love Astral Contact! Some of my stuff is posted there, actually, under fanart and fanfiction. But, even if it wasn't, that wouldn't change the fact that it's one of the best CC sites out there. However, I dislike spoilers and, usually, scans. I prefer having the manga in my hands, you know? It's just a thing with me. So yes, I know of the existence of the scans and summaries, I just choose to ignore them. ;)
Question: "If the Glue Factor means that the ones involved must be perfectly aligned at one moment, then does that mean until both Chrnos love Rosette the same way, they can't become one again?"
Answers: Uh. . . yeah. Pretty much. But it'll all be explained in largely unnecessary detail in later chapters. XD
Question: "i think it'd be better if Big chrno loved rosette as a love like we all know as in a wife or something... not like a daugter. thats weird.. no effence!" (Okay, that's more like a statement, but I'm gonna answer anyway.)
Answer: None taken! I'm glad you brought it up. A lot of people have been saying "Chrono— daughter— love— what. . . ?" And I realize it's a sort of weird concept to grasp. But, at least, in the beginning—that's more or less what he saw her as. Rosette obviously had a huge crush on him (remember those toxic cookies she made? And Joshua's teasing?), but he was very much stuck in parental mode. (Sorry, but I don't see Chrono allowing himself to fall in love with a 12 year old orphan to whom he tells bedtime stories. He's smart enough to wait until she can drive. ;))
Also, I had someone mentioning how they thought LC would be this wild, doting boyfriend-esque creature and BC would be a more urbane, gentlemanly lover in this fic. And, no matter how much I'd love to do that, it would make having a plot difficult. Sorry! (I did think about doing it like that for a while, though.)
Anyway, I hope this chapter at least cleared away a bit of confusion as to why both Chronos are acting the way they are. If not, don't despair—it will all be explained by the end. I promise.
Well, that's about it! Thanks for reading, and please review!
NEXT CHAPTER: Rosette, Chrono, and Chrono go off to defeat the demon hiding downtown. But every battle has a price. . . and the price this time is somebody's feelings. Feelings that are about to get crushed.
See ya then!
