Disclaimer: I'll remember to ask Santa this year. . .
Author's Note: I know, I know, I'm an evil chapter-updating nazi. . . I'm sorry. I've been busy with quite a few projects with deadlines (AKA b-day gifts), so I haven't had a lot of time to work on fanfic chapters. Gomen ne!
Oh, and before I forget—I will be out of town the next week, and then in a play the following so updating will be a little scarce then, too, I'm afraid. I will try my best to update SOMETHING—be it ficlets or oneshots or a chapter—but I won't promise anything. Okay?
On a happier note, LOOK OUT TX! XD I'm a comin' down all by my onesie! (To visit my Onee-san for her birthday. XD) XD XD XD I'm so excited! And if any of you are going to be attending the Ochibi Con in Houston, look out for me. The plan is to go as Malik from YuGiOh, but we'll see about that. My Onee-san and I are still working out details (she's planning on going as Ishizu, but. . .).
That said, please enjoy this chapter. I apologize if it's a bit short, but it's what my outline says, and my outline is what I go by. (Then again, y'all ALWAYS say that the chapter is too short. . . ;) )
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DOUBLE TROUBLE
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Chapter Seven: In Which Many Time-Outs Are Given (or Threatened)
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In their defense, they really were trying hard.
Rosette muffled a scream with a pillow, trying her best not to yank out another clump of hair. From one corner of the room, Little Chrono chanced a glance in her direction, looking remorseful, just as the Sinner did the same thing from an opposite corner. When their eyes accidentally locked with the others, they turned away (for the fifth time), resting their foreheads against the wall as they had been previously instructed to do.
Time outs.
A 16-year-old had forced possibly the world's most powerful devil—one who happened to be over 100 years her senior—into a TIME OUT. In the CORNER. Just when the two had believed their pride couldn't be damaged any worse. . . they'd been wrong.
Big Chrono sighed, shifting uncomfortably. 'I can still remember a time when I would have to force Rosette and Joshua to do this. . . I really was a bastard, wasn't I? This sucks!'
And suck it did. However, it was a well-deserved punishment— those windows had been over two centuries old. (People sure didn't know how to make glass back then. . .) But even disregarding that. . . they had broken their promises to each other.
Again.
Which was particularly frustrating considering things had been going so well. Yes, the two halves soon learned that—once they put aside their differences—they were nearly identical. (Funny how that tends to happen with clones.) They could agree on what to eat and where to go; good comebacks and favorite weapons; how best to keep Azmaria's dust mite allergies in check and the proper way to clean the Elder's windows.
In fact, the only thing they couldn't agree on was Rosette. Which was ironic, considering she was the whole reason they decided to try and be nice in the first place. Still—no matter how polite or gracious they attempted to act, someone always ended up with something injured. Once in a while that someone was even Rosette herself, though in that case the wound tended to be 'broken nail' or something equally as trivial. (Not that Rosette "getting hurt" was ignored— oh no, quite the opposite. A single hair lost from the top of her head was as good of a reason as any to start World War II, in the Chronos' righteous opinion.)
Pealing her face away from her cushion, said Sister chanced a slow glance towards each demon; subconsciously chewing her new broken nail. She was in deep shit. . . and she knew it. Those windows cost the convent a small fortune, and now they were nothing more than wind chime material. Kate was going to kill her on her devils' behalf!
. . . Though, she had to admit—she was a bit impressed with the Chronos' handwork. In less than two weeks, they'd managed to break her own record (almost literally) when it came to smashing Magdalene Order possessions. Who'd have ever thought that the head nun could be more furious than she was that one time Rosette managed to turn 3 cars into tin cans in less than 2 hours time?
Speaking of time. . . Rosette glanced towards the wall clock. "All right. . ." she grunted, pulling her knees to her chin and staring coldly at each boys' back in turn, "it's been 5 minutes. Now PLEASE—stay out of trouble. At least until after breakfast—or I'm going to SKIN YOU ALIVE!"
Little Chrono whimpered, casting his Contractor a tearful glance over his shoulder; trembling. 'Maybe it would be safer just to stay in the corner. . .' His doppelganger appeared to be having the same thoughts; straightening uncomfortably and attempting to find his voice.
It never failed to amaze him how such a little girl (well, in his eyes, anyway) could strike such fear in his heart when she wanted to. . . the sealed devil watched his other self with pursed lips. It was almost like having a really screwed up out-of-body experience. . . Was he always that pathetic looking?
Oh well.
Massaging her temples with the tips of her fingers, the nun attempted to find and hold her last threads of patience and sanity. "All right. . ." she began after a moment, hopping to her feet and looming over the quivering pair from on top of her bed, "this is the deal. I'm off to see Sister Kate— who IS, I should inform you, much better after the doctors pumped her stomach. Said something about taking too many headache pills— because of you two. Be prepared for SERIOUS consequences when I get back IF I GET MY DRIVING PRIVALAGES TAKEN AWAY AGAIN!"
Flames seemed to shoot from her eyes and mouth as she screamed; the demons cowered obediently, nodding. One could almost see imaginary doggie ears plastered to their heads in fright. In response, Rosette slapped on a very fake, painful looking smile. "Good," she finished in clipped tones. "Now—go clean the bathroom and iron my clothes."
"Yes ma'am!" both peeped.
"And do the windows and floors, too—they're a mess," their tamer commanded, hands firmly placed on her hips.
"We don't do wi— (Sparks crackled in her seething glare.) er, I mean, yes ma'am!"
"And I want no more whining or fighting, do you hear!"
"Yes ma'am!"
"Good." Feet connecting with the hard floor after a small leap, Rosette stormed out of her bedroom, heard to be muttering: "Remind me NEVER to have kids. . ."
". . ." Little Chrono shot a baffled glance towards his taller double. "What's that supposed to mean?"
The Sinner said nothing for a moment, squeezing into a rocking chair and pulling out a pink, frill-covered sewing kit. Fixing a thimble upon his thumb (or, rather, trying to—it was hard to do with his talons), he shrugged, blowing out his cheeks. "I have no idea."
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Rosette had truly, honestly, and undoubtedly never been more scared of Sister Kate than she was right now. And not because Sister Kate was screaming. Nor because she had Rosette in a chokehold. Nor even because she was pointing a Special Exorcist .45 at her own head, like she'd done last week.
No, it was because she wasn't doing any of those things. And. . . because she was smiling.
Which was very odd to see— not only because of the circumstances, but because the blonde had rarely ever seen the good sister smile. The only times she had were. . . well, flukes, to be honest. Or when she'd accidentally overdosed on her stomach medications. So when Rosette walked into the woman's office with wringing hands and a twisting gut to find a beaming Sister Kate. . . ?
Her immediate reaction was to call for a doctor. (Or begin praying, because apparently the apocalypse was near.)
"No, Sister Rosette, I can assure you that I feel perfectly fine," Kate informed lightly, though her smooth brow puckered a bit at the words Rosette had used to ask her question. "It appears that the Elder's daughter's husband's best friend's hairdresser's nephew knows a man who knows another man who can repair the windows for nearly a fourth of the cost of getting new ones, so—"
The teen exorcist blew out her cheeks, feeling a bit of tension leave her. "Well, that's—" A beat. "The Elder has a daughter?"
"—all's well that ends well, I suppose." The older nun laced her fingers together, placing her chin upon them. "However, it has come to the attention of the Order as a whole that we all need a little. . . er. . . time apart. . ."
Rosette shook her head, eyes wide with disbelief. "The ELDER has a DAUGHTER?" No freakin' way!
". . . ergo, I'm afraid I must ask that the three of you—"
Snapping her face up, the blonde pierced her superior with a pensive glare. "We ARE talking about the same Elder, aren't we?"
Kate's eye gave a twitch, subconsciously chucking a pen at Rosette's head. (It was a natural reflex, after all of their other meetings.) The tip wedged itself in her golden bangs, dripping ink down her face; looking more like black blood than anything else. "YES!" the head Sister barked, irritated at the lack of respect and attention she was shown. "YES we ARE talking about the same Elder, and YES he has a DAUGHTER! It was before he joined our Order—she's nearly my age—so would you let it GO?"
Rosette colored indignantly, the dark liquid seeping down her face nearly broiling. "That NASTY pervert. . . !"
With a groan, the brunette deflated, grasping her headdress with clenching fingers. "We're not going to get anywhere at this rate! Oh— formalities be damned! Rosette, you and. . . and those DEVILS— you're OUT of here!"
Silence, harsh words echoing off of the cold stone walls.
The teen stiffened, suddenly completely enraptured with Kate's words; dropping the fingers she'd been counting on. (What she'd been counting will never be known. . . for she soon forgot, so shocked she was by this announcement.) "Wha—WHAT?" she yelped, paling. "You're kicking us out! You—you CAN'T do that you b—!"
"Only for the rest of the day," Kate finished, gaze narrowing, full of warnings concerning the end of that sentence. "AT LEAST until sunset. We need a chance to fix the damage that's already been done before anything else happens."
Though the adrenaline heat that had replaced her blood moments before began to slow and cool, the girl couldn't help but continue to look confused and wary. "But. . . what should we do?" she inquired a bit flatly, finally wrenching the pen out of her tresses. "Where should we go? We'd kind of be noticed in town, with their looks and all. . ."
The older nun ground her teeth, kneading her forehead and looking much more like Sister Kate should—annoyed. "I honestly don't care anymore," the woman grunted curtly, nearly causing the lip she was biting to bleed. "Take them to the market, the stores, the woods, the park, the amazon—just get them OUT OF HERE! AND—!
. . . and . . ." She hesitated, softening slightly at the look on Rosette's face. ". . . And Sister Rosette," she sighed, trying to relax in her hard wooden chair, "try to have fun, while you're out. I know this has been hard on you, too. And who knows? Maybe a change in scenery will help them reconnect."
". . . !" Upon hearing these words, the blonde seemed to perk up—blue pools brightening as a thought struck her. "Yes. . . If I can. . . good memories and. . . " she started murmuring, more to herself than anyone else. "That's it!" Straightening, she locked an excited gaze with Kate's fatigued own. "Sister Kate—can I borrow a basket?"
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"How much farther. . . ?"
Rosette hummed happily, nearly skipping; fingers laced behind her back as she reached the summit of the third hill overlooking the crisp forest—the forest that reminded her of Michigan. "Just a little ways," she sang, all smiles and sunshine; oblivious to the panting gasps of the two Chronos laboring under bushels of food and bags of books and toys. (Hey, sunset was a loooong time to hang out.) "I want to be able to see the lake from where we stop."
"There's a lake up here?" the Sinner inquired with a groan, back hunched as he attempted to lug both his dying doppelganger and his dying doppelganger's 50 pounds of stuff. (Needless to say, it was hard.) Rosette grinned, taking a deep, calming breath of fresh air.
"I think so. . . can't remember. Oh well. If there's not, we'll just keep walking until we find another place to go!"
Another. . . oh God. . . Both boys barely managed to keep from sobbing. "Can't. . . move. . . anymore. . ." Little Chrono wheezed, trying to push himself up the hill with his feet; his double yanking at his arms. "Can't—breathe—!"
"Dammit," Big Chrono grunted, doubling over as they reached the top of the small mountain. Rosette was already on her way down. . . "This brings back. . . unpleasant memories. . ."
". . ." the child snorted, apparently wanting to smile but deciding it would be too much work. "Tell me. . . about it. . . Remember when she insisted we give both her and Joshua piggy back rides home from our picnics at the cave?"
The Sinner tried to laugh, but it came out as a cough. Falling to his rear, he willed his heart to slow a bit. "Yeah. . . but at least she was carrying her own food, then. And it wasn't as bad as that time she made us search the entire forest for her doll, only to find that—"
"—she'd left it on her bed," sealed Chrono finished with a quiet chuckle, having previously collapsed; eyes on the sky. A soft breeze ruffled through, playing with his sweaty bangs. "God, she even made us crawl through those damn thistles. It took me a month to finally pick them all off!"
Big Chrono shivered, cringing. "I still have nightmares."
"About what?"
"—!" The two devils froze, braids nearly standing on end as their Contractor's face slipped into view, creased with perplexity and narrowed in suspicion. "R—Rosette!"
". . ." She glowered, crossing her arms as the pair straightened. "You two were talking about me, weren't you?"
Little Chrono blanched for a few moments before plastering on a thousand-watt smile. "Of course not!" he chirped, jumping to his feet and grabbing the girl's hand. He cast his other self a glance from over his shoulder, shrugging in half-apology at the expression his actions created on the Sinner's face. "We were just taking a res— (he cleared his throat, duly noting the look she cast him)— that is, we just thought the view here was too good to pass up! So. . . shall we stay here?"
He pouted slightly, sparkling ruby eyes widening with a watery sweetness that should have been declared both a lethal weapon and highly illegal. Rosette flushed slightly, wrenching her hand from his; hanging her head during an unexplainable wave of shame caused by the gaze the true devil was piercing her with. "Er— oh, whatever," she snapped, frustrated to find that her insides were turning to jelly once more. But why! And who was making them feel like that? "But only 'cause you two are so lazy you'd probably get a heart attack if you tried walking anymore."
Plopping on the edge of hill so that her feet were slopping downwards, the nun leaned back on her fists and closed her eyes; allowing the wind to play with her hair. . .
. . . and allowing the demons to converse in heated whispers behind her back.
"What the hell was that?" Big Chrono snapped in an undertone, giving the smaller boy's lapel a sharp tug. "I thought we agreed—!"
"To try to get along," the other replied curtly. "And we have been! What is WRONG with you? All I did was save ourselves from possible lung pop-age!"
"Yeah," the tawny pooled man snarled, said eyes flashing, "by playing on Rosette's hormones, you cake eater! What the fuck was up with that cute act, eh? You little worm!"
Sealed Chrono drew himself up to his full height (which was about to his clone's hips), spitting with rage. "I am not a worm!" he hissed. "If anything, YOU are! I saw that look you had when we were talking about Rosette when she was younger—you even liked her then, you— you—!"
"Anything you call me," the Sinner warned with a dry smirk, "applies to yourself, as well. So you better choose your next words wisely."
"Yooooou—!" The child shook a threatening finger, fury crackling in his veins. "You are a nechropedophiliac!"
". . ." Adult Chrono simply blinked at him; though the red rush of anger was beginning to tint his tanned cheeks. "Okay, now you're just making words up!"
A stab of hurt. "I am not!" Small Chrono barked, their voices growing louder and louder; Rosette's eyes jamming more tightly shut. Hands squeezed the grass, accidentally clawing up dirt.
"Are too!"
"Am not!"
(Good thing no food was out yet, or this could have seriously gotten messy. . .)
"Are too!"
"Am n—!"
"DO I NEED TO SEND YOU TO YOUR CORNERS!" the Sister roared, her icy tone slicing through the argument like a knife. Both devils silenced themselves with small shakes of their heads, turning to look in opposite directions as their tamer spun around, scooting towards them with a scrunched face.
"Good. . ." she breathed slowly, clenching the free material of her habit. "You know, let's just skip admiring the scenery. . . and playing with the cards I brought. . . I'm kind of hungry." Grabbing the basket Sister Kate had lent her from the small Chrono's huge sack, Rosette began rifling pointedly through its contents; eyes glued on the dark depths. Clearing her throat once or twice, she fished out three apples, six sandwiches, and was working on a few cookies when Big Chrono decided to take advantage of her distracted state.
"I am NOT a nechropedophiliac or whatever it is you called me. I'm just looking out for Roset—"
"Please," the boy blew a silent raspberry, "you're just too afraid to admit to yourself AND to Rosette that yo—"
"STOP IT."
They grew rigid for a second time, a strange iciness rushing through their veins upon processing Rosette's voice. But not, this time, because she had overheard them talking—nor even because she sounded enraged.
No, this time their horror was due to the broken quality of her tone; the rasping harshness of her brisk command.
"Just stop it," the exorcist whispered, fists having slowed to a halt; face bowed slightly. "I'm SICK of hearing you two throw my name around like it's some sort of ball or plaything. I'm SICK of being the reason behind all of the accidents in the Order, even when I'm not the one breaking things! And I'm SICK of seeing you two fight because of— ! Because of. . ."
She trailed off, muttering darkly under her breath about something flying into her eye; a few fingers darting up to try and scrub it out.
No. . . way. . . was she—? Good lord. . . !The Sinner gaped, as did the sealed devil, freaking out inside but attempting to remain calm on the surface. Reaching out identical, trembling hands they grasped opposite shoulders—only to have their warmth pushed away. "Roset—"
"I said stop!" the blonde roared, snapping upon them the most ferociously pathetic glare they'd ever seen. Her great azure pools, glassy with unreleased tears, glimmered with animosity and self-loathing, fear and fury. "I don't want to hear you two talking about me anymore! I don't want to be the reason you hate!"
". . ." Both stared at her for a long moment, emotionless and stunned.
And then—simultaneously— they leaned forward and wrapped their arms around her, shocking her into a conscious coma. "—!" Rosette felt a gasp wedge itself in her throat, processing the feel of the two pairs of strong, gentle arms wrapped securely around her body. It was certainly a strange sensation. . . but not unpleasant.
"Ch. . . Chrono. . ."
"Don't talk like that. . ." the child breathed after another hushed minute, face buried in the nape of her neck. "Don't ever talk like that!"
The Sinner nodded his agreement. "You could never be the reason anyone hates— let alone the reason we hate. . ."
". . ." She didn't say anything; only closed her eyes and allowed herself to drown in the warmth around her. A breeze danced through, bringing the late afternoon clouds with it.
'No. . .' they thought; time ticking by, 'You could never be the reason we hate, Rosette. . .'
Behind her back, two sets of hands flickered; fading and molding together for a brief, passing minute.
'. . . because you're too busy being the reason we love.'
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All right, what to call this. . . how about the SPELLING IT OUT section. XD Kidding, kidding. . .
Q: Last chapter, you called Az 'Charity' a few times. In case no one has told you before, her name is spelt: 'A-Z-M-A-R-I-A'.
A: Ah, yes, thank you for that! But I called her Charity on purpose. It's a pet peeve of mine (in my own writing—I don't mind it so much in other peoples' stuff) to call a character by their name too many times in a row. Sometimes I shorten it (like 'Az'), or use descriptive words ('pale locked girl'), or nouns, in Az's case ('apostle'). Some people complain about it, but whatcha gonna do? It's just how I write. Anyway, because Az is the apostle of charity, I decided to call her that once or twice. (Wow, long paragraph for such a simple explanation. Sorry. . .)
Q: If I bribe you, will you update faster? Or will a new chapter be posted sooner if I threaten you?
A: I write when I'm inspired. Sometimes, yes, inspiration comes from a looming deadline (coughcough), but more often than not it happens spontaneously—like from a walk I take or something. Other times, I'll just wake up and say: "Gee, I feel like writing (fill in the blank) today!". In short, you can do either until you're blue in the face—it probably won't help much. (Though, I have to add, bribing in the forms of fanart and kind reviews sometimes spark inspiration, whereas threats just irk me. XD)
Q: Out of the two Chronos—lecherous, kawaii LC or overprotective, parental-and-in-denial BC— which do you like more?
A: Romantically or writing about? Let's see. . . Honestly, I like writing about both. LC is so cute—always leaping around and being hyper and lovable—but it's equally fun to make BC all serious and somber and cool. Romantically, I guess I'm with Satella on this one—I love Chrono. And Chrono's not here right now. Both halves of him are great, but I like neither as much as the unified Chrono. XD
BECAUSE I KNOW IT WILL BE ASKED:
Q: Dude. You said 'World War II' in this chapter. Didn't you mean 'World War III'?
A: No. I meant WWII. Since WWII hadn't happened yet during this time period, that's the number they'd have used.
Q: Does the Elder REALLY have a daughter?
A: No, not to my knowledge. I just thought it would be a fun idea to play with. XD
NEXT CHAPTER: Things are still not looking good. Why won't the two Chrono's unite? They know the full reason why, but nobody else. . . until the Elder spells it out. Platonic or passion, which will it be?
Until next time—keep on smiling. XD I love you all!
Ja ne!
