Author's note:
Well, kids, here it is. Gratuitous shower scene--not like that! Get your mind out of the gutter. Actually, it's not so gratuitous, I suppose. But I hope this chapter makes you AmonxRobin fans out there giggly with excitement. In case anyone is afraid to continue reading or thinking I should change my rating, this chapter is not citrus in content, unless you're talking about the pulp in Sheridan's orange juice.
Sheridan: Yeah, I love OJ with the pulp left in. I remember sitting out in my dad's orchards and--
Sinclair: Oh, enough already. You'd do a lot better with some fiber. My bran flakes here--
Author: Both of you, shut yer yaps! (Did I just become Kid from Chrono Cross?) This is a WHR and Devil May Cry fic, not a Babylon 5 parody. Get back to your universe! Anyway, I think AmonxRobin fans will enjoy the chapter nonetheless, even if they were wanting some fruity content. The intensity level is still high, and Robin has grown a bit of a backbone.
Robotech Announcer: Are you going to get on with it, or are you just going to keep rambling on and on? Even I don't ramble that much . . .
Author: Wanna bet? But, I suppose I should stop rambling and just let you people read.
PS Robotech fans may recognize the title of this chapter from the Mospeada series. This chapter really has absolutely no connection to Robotech, but the title, out of context, fits strangely enough.
Chapter 14
Reflex Point
Letting the scalding hot water pound against his aching body, Amon leaned against the wall of the shower with his eyes closed, trying desperately to regain his sense of balance and control. The heat of the water had already numbed his skin, temporarily erasing the pain of bruises scattered all over his body. Unfortunately, it couldn't numb the shame and anger that went along with them. Zaizen was unusually brutal in his beating tonight, perhaps taking out some of his frustration with headquarters along the way. Amon had a feeling the marks left behind would last longer than normal.
He shut off the water when he felt exhaustion tempt him toward sleep due to the warmth and the droning sound of the shower. Standing in the steam for a few moments before opening the door and reaching for a towel, he found his mind wandering. A pair of confused and hurt green eyes came to mind, but he shook the memory away with annoyance, consequently scattering droplets of water across the room. Robin was angry with him, and rightly so, but he wasn't so certain how true his words to Michael about the change in her feelings for him were. She was persistent, if nothing else, and even though he wanted to believe she had thought better of her attraction to him, he knew she was more difficult to shake than that. He could only hope his encouragement of Michael's interest would divert her. Amon had suspected the hacker had feelings for Robin for some time, but now he was forced to take advantage of them. Damn Zaizen.
Distracting himself with drying off and wringing most of the water out of his hair, he managed to keep his mind empty until he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He was shocked by how haggard he looked. The past forty-eight hours had clearly taken their toll on him. The drug Touko gave him had utterly drained his system even before Zaizen decided to beat the shit out of him, and now the emotional impact of the day's events was catching up with him as well. As much as he struggled to keep his emotions locked away in a place where even he couldn't find them, his physical weakness was making him emotionally weak as well. It was a very good thing he had opted for coming straight home instead of stopping off at Harry's. He couldn't be certain what kind of stupidity he might have been condemned to by seeing Robin with his inhibitions and reasoning still torn to shreds. He might just have found himself following Zaizen's orders despite his better judgment, simply because he was drunk with fatigue.
Wandering into his bedroom, he snatched a pair of khaki cargo pants out of his closet along with a black shirt. He had barely gotten a foot in one leg of the pants before he heard a knock on the door and froze. Very few people knew where he lived, and even fewer chose to visit him. Touko was the only one lately who ever showed up on his doorstep unexpectedly. Pulling the pants on quickly and dropping his shirt on a nearby chair as he reached for his orbo gun, he crossed the living room silently.
He hadn't been sure what to expect when he looked out the peephole, but the sight that greeted him on the other side of the door was the last thing he had expected . . . or wanted. Not only was Robin standing there in his hallway, but also she was wearing an outfit he was certain he'd seen Doujima wearing in the past. It hugged her slim form in a way that was definitely unhealthy for his control, and he groaned inwardly at his luck. Fuck. The fates were conspiring against him.
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The apartment building was well maintained and seemed to be fairly new. The walls were painted a light grey and the carpeting was a darker shade of charcoal. How fitting for Amon, she thought, observing all the shades of grey. As she approached the door labeled 503 with a sense of trepidation, her heart started pounding like the bass beat in one of the techno songs she had heard at her one and only party. Breath caught in her throat and her hand trembling, she rapped her knuckles against the door several times and suppressed the temptation to bolt for the stairs. She rarely sought out confrontation, unless her heart told her it was necessary. At the moment, her heart was overriding her fear and convincing her that a confrontation with her partner could not be avoided. His actions were no longer just affecting her, and someone needed to talk to him. But if a confrontation was necessary, she would much rather get it out of the way as soon as possible; hence the reason she had come here tonight instead of waiting until the next day.
Time crept by as she waited, hearing the thumping of her heart in her ears and feeling sweat dampen her palms. Surely he was home. She could judge by what she'd heard of Karasuma's conversation that he had left the office already. But what if something terrible had happened to him on the way home? What if the witch they were after had attacked him--or worse yet, Touko had revived and was still under the influence of the witch they were hunting--
She must have made quite the picture of panic with the thoughts flying through her head when Amon opened the door, but all thought processes stalled out instantly when she saw him standing there, grey eyes narrowed with fury, his hair hanging damply around his shoulders--around his bare shoulders. Unable to stop her reaction though she knew it made her sheltered upbringing all too obvious, her eyes wandered down over his chest and abdomen, amazed by the unfamiliar masculine musculature until they reached the waistband of his dark grey cargo pants before looking abruptly away, heat flooding her face. She attempted desperately to remember why she had come and all the things she had intended to say, refusing to allow his appearance to overwhelm and distract her from her determination.
He spoke first, his voice weary with irritation. "Robin. What are you doing here? How did you--"
"I was worried about you," she answered quickly, still keeping her eyes focused on the hallway to her left, unable to look at him. "I asked Karasuma if she knew where you lived, and I convinced her to bring me here."
"For what purpose?" he asked coldly.
"Because I wanted to make sure you were okay," she managed after a few abortive attempts to speak which resulted in only silence escaping from her mouth. His aloofness was tinder for the anger she had been unable to fully recover until this moment. It sparked and his next words fanned it into a flame.
"I don't see why."
Setting her jaw resolutely, she met his gaze boldly without even a waver in the direction of his bare chest. "Karasuma said you didn't check out of the hospital--that you just walked out." He did not reply, and her determination wavered. "And . . ." She looked away again with guilt as she continued, "Michael said Zaizen was angry with you. I thought I might have had something to do with his anger. I'm sorry."
"You coerced Karasuma into bringing you all the way over here so you could apologize for something that wasn't your fault in the first place?"
Anger flaring again, she retorted, "I came here because I was worried about you."
"You needn't worry. I'm fine." He sighed and added dryly, "You'd better hurry. Karasuma will probably only be waiting a few more minutes."
"I asked her not to wait."
"She's waiting." The shadow of a wry smirk touched his face. "I'm sure she half expects me to slam the door in your face. She doesn't trust me."
"I think she might trust you more than you trust her . . . or anyone else, for that matter."
"Perhaps." He sighed again, then added with barely controlled impatience, "I'm still listening, Robin. You clearly have something more you want to say. Just say it."
Robin's anger was starting to sour her stomach. How did he always manage to make her feel like an adolescent who had disobeyed and was risking punishment? Looking at him out of the corner of her eye, she decided to voice her feelings for once, tired of him abusing her without thought. "Why do you always treat me like that? Like I'm some kind of immature child you have no use for? Like I'm a burden? I've done my best to improve my control over my craft for you. I've followed all your orders and I've done everything I can to contribute to our missions--but nothing is ever enough for you. I'm still a failure in your eyes. I still don't measure up--and I'm beginning to think I never will. You just keep raising the stakes so I never succeed. What will it take to win your respect, Amon?"
Returning her gaze with cool composure, Amon stood in silence for several moments. "Are you finished?" he asked finally as if she had just thrown a temper tantrum.
Looking away from him because she didn't trust herself to keep control over her craft when she was so unbelievably angry, she answered softly, but firmly, "No, I'm not."
Apparently resigning himself to what he saw as her childish behavior since she was refusing to give up easily, he nudged the door open wider with his foot and took a step back from the entrance. She accepted his silent offer to come in, stopping a few steps past him and listening to the sound of the door closing behind her. Surveying the room neutrally, she noted his apartment was not only sparsely decorated, but it also matched his wardrobe. Black, black and more black. Not surprising considering his perfectionistic personality, it was also rather clean and orderly. She couldn't repress a flinch though as she saw a piece of jewelry laying on an end table. She recognized it as belonging to Touko.
When Amon came across her line of sight again, he had his back turned to her and was reaching for a shirt draped over a chair as he dropped his orbo gun onto the end table. She hadn't even realized he'd been armed, though she couldn't say she was necessarily surprised. Taking advantage of her moment free from his discerning gaze, she found herself watching the way his muscles moved beneath his skin as he pulled the shirt over his head, slightly embarrassed by her own fascination. Then, eyebrows creasing, she noticed what she had been too distracted to notice before. A number of bruises darkened the skin in various places around his ribs and back, still fairly faint as if they were either very recent or very old. Her stomach flopped as she connected where they had almost certainly come from. Frowning with concern, she blushed again when she felt his eyes on her though she was still looking at his back, now covered by a thin black shirt. Her gaze found a mirror on the wall he was facing and saw his eyes observing her in the reflection.
Turning away stiffly, she clutched the purse hanging at her waist like a lifeline, wishing for her shapeless dress and layers of clothing to hide beneath instead of the tight fitting shirt and jeans Doujima had insisted she wear. She saw him in her peripheral vision, turned now to face her and leaning back against the wall behind him with his arms crossed over his chest, one bare foot resting against the wall. He was merely watching her with that empty gaze he must have practiced for years to have gotten so good at making, waiting for her to speak. "If you're going to talk, you should get started," he commented. "It's been a long day, and I'm not sure how much patience I have left to deal with this."
She spun to face him directly, so tired of his condescending attitude she wanted to add a few bruises of her own to his body. Then, the reality of that thought hit her and remorse forced her to take a deep breath and calm down a little. "I realize you've had a bad day. I haven't had such a good one myself." Not that you'd ever step down off your self-absorbed mountain long enough to notice. "But there are a few things we need to discuss." He merely raised an eyebrow in response, but his eyes were still filled with annoyance.
"First off, we need to talk about Dante. I barely know him myself, but I do know he doesn't mean you any ill will. I'm sorry if you don't like him, or don't trust him, or whatever it is that's causing you to act so strangely around him . . . but he does know more about the witch we're hunting than we do, and the others are willing to work with him. But they don't like working without their leader. And they don't like seeing their leader cutting himself off from them completely, or disregarding his own health."
"Robin," he interrupted impassively. "Did they elect you to speak for them, or are you simply assuming their feelings and framing your own concerns as if they are concerns the others share as well?"
She looked away, feeling tears of anger stinging her eyes. It was true that no one had specifically told her their feelings except for Karasuma who had seemed equally annoyed with Amon as worried about him. As for Michael's opinion, she was only guessing exactly what he had said on his end of the conversation. "Would you rather believe they don't care?" she inquired finally, turning her back on him completely. "Is it easier to ignore us if you convince yourself we'd rather not have you around anyway?"
The sensation of his breath against her neck was enough to make her jump. She hadn't even heard him cross the room. "You're saying 'we' again instead of 'I.'" His voice was suddenly angry and she realized how little patience he had left. You didn't come here because of anyone else's concerns, Robin. You came here because of your own. At least admit that much."
She spun around to face him, startled by his proximity as she nearly bumped into him. Backing away a step when she saw the dark expression in his eyes, she asked in a fragile whisper, "Is that what you want to hear? That I'm the one who was missing you? That I'm the one who was wanting your leadership and company?"
"I don't care what you say, Robin. Just stop hiding behind excuses and be honest. Your feelings are obvious enough." He began to close the distance between them again, though she had a feeling he wasn't doing it because he wanted to be closer to her, but rather because he expected her to move away. He was trying to intimidate her; perhaps so she would simply give up and leave. His intimidation was affecting her to some degree since she did indeed back away, but she refused to leave.
The solidity of the wall pressed against her back, stopping her retreat, and she trembled as he continued to move closer, the darkness in his gaze almost predatory. Her fear making her audacious, she snapped, "If my feelings are so obvious to you, you could at least explain your own to me--because they are far from obvious. If my presence disgusts you as much as you act like it does most of the time, why are you doing this now? And why did you kiss me in the briefing room before you passed out? I don't believe you really don't remember. Especially judging by the way you held me after Touko attacked me."
He stopped, his face inches away from hers and completely bereft of emotion despite the fury in his eyes. His hands were flat against the wall on either side of her shoulders. "You're not going to give up, are you?" he asked, his breath tickling her skin. Closing his eyes, he took a deep, restraining breath before starting to pull away suddenly. She refused to let him get away with yet another swing in behavior. Snatching at his shirt, she pulled him back toward her with all of her strength. His eyes actually widened in surprise at her resolve, though he easily stopped her from pulling him any closer with his hands braced against the wall.
"No, I'm not giving up," she murmured, her eyes narrowed. "I came here for some answers, and you haven't given me a single one. How about a new question? Where did the bruises on your back come from, Amon?"
He stiffened, anger actually burning through his emotionless mask, exerting itself in the set of his jaw and flare of his nostrils. Attempting to pull away from her again, he turned and she clung to him, forcing him to drag her across the floor along with him. Robin winced at the tightness of his grip when he grabbed her wrists and twisted them to loosen her hold on his shirt. "Amon, you're hurting me," she whispered faintly, not really expecting him to care. She was surprised when he jerked his hands away from her wrists reflexively. He looked away from her sharply, eyes unfocused, his breath gasping past his lips as the pulse in his neck spasmed rapidly. Looking at him in amazement, shocked by how deeply she seemed to have affected him, she found her grip on his shirt loosening slowly.
"Michael was right. Zaizen was not happy with me," he murmured so softly she could barely hear his rumble of a voice. She was shocked that he was actually answering her question, at least after a fashion. "He doesn't take disobedience lightly, and I had not followed instructions as well as he wanted. I did not sufficiently protect his daughter from danger, in fact injuring her when I stopped her from doing something she would have regretted."
"Zaizen's daughter?" Robin inquired wonderingly, piecing together what he wasn't saying. "Touko?"
Amon continued as if he had not heard her speak, still looking away. "I protected you when he felt I should have been protecting Touko, but I failed to follow his other orders as well." He dragged his gaze back toward her, and the intensity of emotion in his eyes made her forget to breathe. "He ordered me to seduce you." The words were spoken so softly it took her mind a few moments to make sense of them, but when it had she wished she had been unable to understand them at all.
She felt her heart breaking as she gaped at him in shock, failing to notice that he looked as surprised by his admission as she was. Thoughts flooded through her mind then too quickly for her to think them through clearly. He only touched me because he was ordered to? He said those things, and acted the way he did because he had no choice, not because he wanted to? Tears escaped her eyes and slid over her cheeks, blurring her vision. She stumbled backwards as she tripped on the edge of the coffee table, and would have fallen if he had not reached out and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her closer. Refusing to meet his gaze, she put her palms out between them as a barrier, not allowing him to close the distance again. This was too cruel. She had thought she was beginning to understand him. She thought she knew his heart, at least. But he was not the man she'd thought he was. He was entirely ruthless and utterly uncaring. "Please, don't touch me," she breathed.
"I couldn't seduce you, Robin," he whispered, and the tenderness in his voice made her look up at him. "Not if it meant merely using you and throwing you away. I want you too badly to control my need forever." His voice broke on the last few words and she saw desperation in his eyes and what looked like fear--but fear of what? It couldn't be fear that he had hurt her . . . could it?
"Amon, you . . ." she started to echo his words since she still too stunned to come up with her own response, but his mouth stopped her as it pressed against her own, lips and tongue searching urgently. The taste of him and feel of his lips made her feel weak as she surrendered to his hold on her, unable to fight back when he was pouring out his soul so openly and ardently. He caressed her back as he clutched her more tightly against him, one of his hands slipping beneath the edge of her shirt, his hand icy against her burning skin. Lost in the sensations overwhelming her senses, she felt his damp hair brush against her face and would have shivered if she had been able to move. Finally, when she was lightheaded from lack of air and the feeling of his tongue against her own, he released the strangle hold he had on her mouth and sucked in a breath before trailing fire down her neck with his lips, pausing at her collarbone and nipping at the sensitive skin there.
His words echoed in her mind suddenly. "I couldn't seduce you, Robin." What was he doing now? It certainly felt like seduction to her. Would he go back to his cold, distant ways afterward? Almost certainly. He had not yet proven he was capable of anything between the two extremes. Just as she was struggling against her rebellious body to find a way to stop him--or at least slow him down long enough for her to think--he pulled away suddenly, though not completely. His hands were still resting on her waist, now at the crest of her hips, though his arms were straightened in front of him and he was looking down at their feet, his breath still coming in panting gasps.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't have done that." The sincerity in his voice cut off the words she had been about to say. She knew she should pull away from his touch now. She knew she should voice the fears growing inside her. But she couldn't. She wanted this as badly as he claimed he did. Unable to stop herself, she experimentally touched his face, her fingers lightly tracing his cheekbone and sliding down to where his jaw met his neck, teasing the unshaven hair there. "Robin," his voice sounded husky and impossibly deep as he pleaded with her silently to stop.
"You meant it," she whispered in wonderment, wanting to believe what her intuition was telling her. She continued to trace a path down to his collarbone, surprised to find his skin so soft beneath her fingertips. "You meant what you said before you blacked out." He looked up at her, and she was finally able to recognize the emotions filling his eyes as they confirmed her theory.
Gently, he grasped her wrist and moved her hand away from him. "This is wrong. It can't happen again," he said firmly. "Zaizen will use me. You can't let yourself trust me, Robin."
She noticed a cut on his lip which she had not been able to see before, but the flush on his face and the kiss had made it obvious. Sadly, she touched his lips lightly with her free hand. "Why do you let him abuse you?"
He closed his eyes--in pain, she realized, though it was not physical. "Robin, you need to go home." He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss against her forehead. "I'm too reckless right now." The words were a breathless whisper. Catching her hand in his own, he reached for his keys on the coffee table and pulled her toward a closet near the door. Still holding her hand, he reached into the closet and pulled out a jacket, only releasing her long enough to wrap the coat around her, its baggy folds swallowing her slight form. Reaching for her hand again after pulling on his trench coat, he led her to the door, slipping into a pair of shoes along the way.
Reveling in his continued contact, she was unable to voice her growing fear. You'll be back to your usual self tomorrow, won't you? she wanted to ask. You'll pretend you never touched me . . . pretend you couldn't care less about me. Just like before.
He turned back to face her before opening the door. "It would be better for you, Robin, if you forgot whatever it is you're feeling for me." Touching her face gently, his eyes so incredibly sad they made her ache inside, he continued, "What you want . . . what we both want right now . . . can never happen. And I will have to be cruel to you again in the future. It's safer for you if Zaizen believes I am still playing his game. So, please, find someone else to care for. Michael would gladly accept your love, and return it as well. He deserves it more than I do." She was stunned by his disclosure of Michael's feelings, but at the moment, she was too overwhelmed by all the other revelations he had thrown at her to give this one equal attention.
He started to turn away, but she caught his sleeve and pulled him back to face her. If the Amon who was speaking to her now was the real one, she didn't want him to disappear again behind his distant facade if she could prevent it in any way. Bravely, she leaned toward him, pushing herself up on her toes and pressing a kiss against his lips, burning the sensation in her memory. His hand, still clasped in her own tightened its grip, and his opposite hand threaded its way into her hair before he regained control again and pushed her insistently away. "No," he whispered, reaching for the doorknob.
She caught his wrist and pleaded, "I don't want to go home, Amon."
"Please, Robin," he begged in response, his voice thick with emotion. "My control is hanging by a thread right now and I'm a breath away from surrendering to you, but it can't happen. You may be too young yet to understand, but one night is not worth a lifetime of regret."
She had not been necessarily thinking as far ahead as he was when she made her plea, yet his response still bothered her. "You would regret it that much?" Her voice broke as tears filled her eyes.
His caught her in his gaze and replied resolutely, "You are worth more than a one night stand, Robin. I refuse to use you in such a way. I know your hormones are clouding your thoughts right now--I provoked them. It was irresponsible of me, and I am sorry. But when they calm down, you will realize I am not the only male on the face of this planet . . . and I am certainly not the most convenient one to focus your energies on." Then, tenderly caressing her cheek one more time, he released her hand and opened the door, gesturing for her to walk ahead of him. Not wanting to aggravate him further, she exited the apartment and waited in the hall while he locked the door behind him.
The car ride back to her apartment was quiet as so many of their trips in his car had been before, but the silence had never been so charged with repressed emotions. She turned to him before opening the car door when they were in front of her building, exchanging a longing gaze until he could stand it no longer and looked away. Slipping out of the car without a word, she headed for the entrance, failing to remember she was still wearing his jacket until she was inside the door. She tugged it tighter around her as tears began to fall, soaking the leather. His smell permeated the jacket, a scent made of too many intertwining layers for her to identify them. It was like him--complex, inscrutable . . . and intensely attractive to her for no logical reason at all.
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Now, I don't want my AmonxRobin fans to suddenly think that this is all they're going to get. But things just couldn't get all tied up too quickly, now could they? We must have more angst and opportunities to inflict the Duncan Syndrome on poor Amon. Anyway, I'm very interested to see what you all think of where I took things. Do you think I stayed mostly in character (or as in character as they can be considering the circumstances)? A little OOC was intended since, as the title implies, they were both reacting more than thinking clearly through their actions.
Anyway, I already have most of the next chapter written, but it'll need a little cleaning up before I can post it. It should be coming soon though.
To Beautiful Witch Hunter Robin: That sounds really scary! I hope you feel better soon.
To linkinthepast: Thank you! I think this chapter may have answered your question for the most part. :) Though one never can tell what Amon will decide to do . . .
