Author's Note:
Thank you all for your reviews! You're making me all blushy and stuff. I'll do my best to keep updating as often as possible! I'm also relieved people don't mind the crossoverness. Devil May Cry is a little cheesy as far as dialogue in the game goes, but it's a helluva lot of fun to play. And Dante's fun to look at. I'm not really sure what inspired me to put him in a WHR story, but he seems to fit in, oddly enough.
Anyway, prepare yourselves for Amon angst and utter OOC-ness ahead. But there's a reason for it. I swear!
Chapter 7
Meltdown
Amon sped away from the building where he had just dropped Touko off at work, anger pushing his foot down harder on the gas pedal. He weaved through traffic, air whipping through his half-open sunroof and tangling his hair around his face. It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. He pushed the pedal down harder and nearly collided with another car as he ran a red light. Skidding out of the way, he managed to stay on the road, forcing himself to bring his reckless emotions under control.
Touko had been upset with him this morning because he had refused to indulge her last night when they finally made it back to his apartment. Actually, it would be more accurate to say she had been upset with him last night. This morning she had been incensed. Not only had he refused her, but he had also chosen to sleep on the couch, leaving her alone in the bedroom. He'd offered to drive her home, but she claimed she hadn't wanted to be anywhere near "that little witch" in the near future. Exactly where her bizarre anger with Robin had come from, he wasn't sure, but he found he didn't really care all that much. Touko's anger hadn't even scratched the surface of the numbness which had taken over his body.
He heard Robin say his name again in his mind and he winced with a pain that cut so deep it burned. Robin had always said his name with prayer-like reverence, giving it so many layers of meaning with a simple breath that--despite every caution of his logical mind--he longed to hear it again before it had even fully left her lips. But last night, she had said that strange man's name with all the mystery and the admiration. His own name she had spoken like a curse, with a coldness and a harshness that struck him to the core. It was a ridiculous thing to be hurting so deeply over, and yet with her, nothing was superficial. Subtleties were important because she didn't do such things frivolously or without thought. If she had spoken his name differently, it meant something. It meant, even after her unwavering reactions throughout his cruel treatment of her, it was still possible to make her angry enough with him to cause her to hate him. Zaizen's command to seduce her was at the bottom of his list of reasons why her hatred was the last thing he wanted.
He pulled into the underground garage below STN-J so quickly his tires squealed as he jerked to a stop in a parking spot. Robin's Vespa was already in its usual spot, he noted. A haze swam across his vision suddenly, accompanied by a sense of nausea and he attempted to regain control. He must have been allowing his emotions to affect him physically, which was a weakness he abhorred even more than his weakness in feeling the emotions in the first place. Though Robin had always inspired a whirlwind of contradicting reactions in him, he had never felt such instensity of emotion for her as he now felt flooding his body. It was both unnerving and damned annoying. He detested this feeling of teetering on the edge of losing control.
Getting out of his car and slamming the door shut, he stalked to the elevator, still fuming despite his attempt at control. He was so wrapped up in his own self-pity that he neglected to notice the footsteps behind him. "Hmm, rough night last night?" Karasuma asked with a smile as she slipped into the elevator behind him. Restraining the desire to bite her head off, he replied with complete silence instead, deciding biting his own tongue was less dangerous. She shrugged finally and shook her head. "Suit yourself."
The elevator stopped and Amon hesitated before sweeping out into the hallway, preparing himself for his first sight of her--and waiting for the wave of dizziness coinciding with the elevator's change in motion to fade. Strange. The elevator's never affected me that way before. Shaking the thought from his head, he stepped off onto the fifth floor. As he rounded the corner, he saw Robin standing next to Michael leaning over him as he worked, wearing her usual black dress with her hair once again pulled up into that strange hairstyle. He felt a hint of disappointment that she had gone back to her usual clothes as he remembered the way she had looked last night. Then he told himself to be glad she was wearing her conservative attire again. He thought seeing her with her hair loose and her body concealed in fewer layers of fabric right now might just drive him mad.
Doujima was addressing Robin, sitting backwards in a chair with her back to the door and practically unconscious with her head on the desk next to Michael's computer. "I can't believe you're wearing that dress again," she was muttering. "And that horrid hairstyle! Please tell me you didn't throw out all those clothes!"
"No," Robin replied in her ethereal voice. "I just didn't think they were appropriate for work.
"Hey, I think I found something," Michael interrupted with a smile, practically glowing as he looked up at Robin. "It looks like most of those names Dante gave you show up on our list of witches. And there was a strange incident a few months ago in an abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. Several of the witches were found dead with bullet wounds and other wounds from some kind of blade. Half of the building had been burnt with a high intensity fire. It sounds like the place he described where he first confronted them."
"Hmph!" Doujima scoffed. "Where else would it have been? Do you know how many 'old abandoned warehouses on the edge of town' we have around here, and how many of them are hideouts for witches?"
Sakaki passed by, taking a moment to lean very close to Doujima's ear and scream, "I don't know, Doujima, how many do we have around here?"
Face twitching behind her dark glasses, Doujima jumped out of her chair and tackled Sakaki to the ground. "You bastard!" she growled. "Do you want to know how badly my head hurts right now? Do you?!" She slammed his head into the floor--or at least attempted to. Her coordination wasn't so good and she was rather weak so all she really managed was to knock her own head into his. They both collapsed in an insensate pile as she howled in pain.
Karasuma patted her on the head as she stepped over them toward her desk. "No roughhousing in the house, kids," she said with a smile.
" . . . I don't see anything to indicate a doorway into hell," Michael continued, ignoring the commotion. "But maybe Dante could find some clues in this report I don't recognize."
Robin smiled down at him. "Thank you, Michael."
Amon's rage threatened to supernova as he listened to them. Instead, he released it in a small concentrated burst. "Michael!" he snapped. "Briefing room. Now."
Michael nearly jumped out of his chair and into Robin's arms in shock. Robin simply blinked up at Amon with a storm of emotions in her green eyes. Amon met her gaze long enough to know he was pushing himself to brink of insanity before he spun away, turning on his heel and heading for the briefing room, his shoes making sharp clapping noises on the floor. He heard Michael scurry after him, and waited silently in the darkness for him to catch up. The pause allowed him enough time to calm his heart and catch his breath.
"Sir?" Michael asked meekly when he had entered the shadowy room.
"What kind of information were you gathering for Robin?"
"Just something about a witch case. It's too early to tell, but--"
"It's not our case though, is it, Michael?"
Michael paused. "What do you mean?"
"You're using STN-J's database to help an outsider."
"You mean her friend? Robin says we can trust him."
"Robin isn't exactly the world's best resource on trust," Amon snapped back. "We don't know anything about this man, and furthermore--"
"Why are you always doing that to her?" Michael growled, catching Amon completely off-guard with the intensity of his reaction. "You're always belittling her. Why do you have to constantly drag her down?"
Robin is undermining my authority with this little pet project--
"Disrupting your control, you mean!" What had made Michael so hotheaded all of a sudden? Or perhaps this outburst had been building for quite some time.
"Michael."
Pain stabbed Amon's heart like a dagger as he heard Robin say Michael's name in the tone she used to use for his name alone. He had to turn away to keep the emotions from flooding across his face again like they had last night. He heard Michael shuffle away after a few whispered words from Robin and Amon felt himself crumbling inside. What was she doing to him? He couldn't remember ever feeling so weak before. It was as if she truly had cursed him--used her powers to cast a spell on him and break his soul.
"Why are you so angry?" he heard her ask faintly, and he gave up his last hope that she would say his name. He did not reply. He couldn't find his voice. He flinched as he felt her venture to touch his arm ever so lightly. "What are you afraid of?"
Afraid? When had he said he was afraid?
"Why won't you talk to me?!" Her voice was desperate, even in its faintness, and still he waited; listening, hungering for that one word that would push him over the edge. "Amon!"
His resolve melted and he felt another wave of nausea wash over him. He had to throw an arm out to the wall to support himself. Finally, he found his voice, though it was hoarse and abrasive. "That man is more dangerous than you realize. I don't know how you know him, but it's foolishness to trust him."
"How do you know him?" she inquired curiously, and he realized his words had indeed implied prior acquaintance with the man.
"I don't. It's just an instinct. A premonition. Something about him seems familiar to me, and it tells me that he's not to be trusted."
"My instincts say otherwise." He longed to turn around to see the expression on her face, to read the mixture of emotions hinted at in her words, but he remained motionless.
"How do you know your instincts are right?"
"Well," she replied slowly. You are a dangerous man, and some might say it is foolishness to trust you, yet I do--because my instincts tell me your heart is trustworthy."
The room slid sideways, and he caught himself from falling with his other hand braced against the briefing table though his muscles were trembling from the exertion. His breath came in labored gasps as he allowed himself to sink to his knees. What is she doing to me?
"Amon?!" She was kneeling next to him and he could just make out the shape of her face in the shadows as she looked up at him, concern twisting every feature. Her wrist was cool against his forehead--so blessedly cool. "You're burning up!" she whispered frantically.
"It's your fire, Robin," he murmured huskily, leaning toward her, his breath rebounding off her skin. "You're burning me to ashes." He saw her eyes widen in shock, but he couldn't stop himself as he pressed his lips against hers with urgency, as if this was the last chance he would ever have to touch her as he had wanted to for so long. He felt so weak, and he was only growing weaker. He could feel his life slipping away from him. She caught him in her arms easily as he felt the dim light of the conference room fading to shadow, and he clung to her desperately as he drowned in the darkness.
"Amon!" she cried in panic though her voice sounded distorted and far away to him now. So distant. The stars were filling the sky. Cold, faraway, so remote he could never hope to touch them. "Someone help me! Michael! Doujima! Karasuma!"
"I love you," he found himself mumbling against her throat to his own surprise, uncertain where the words had come from and shocked at the possibility they truly described his elusive feelings for her. His lips felt as numb as the rest of his body as he floated away, into an abyss where no light shone. No sun. No stars. No Robin. Nothing that mattered to him. Only emptiness.
-------
Don't hurt me! He's not dead!
Next chapter on the way: Chapter 8: Babe-sitting.
