Author's Note:
I just realized I don't know why I put an author's note in here. I don't really have anything to say. Except this: Hi. Oh, and I feel like sharing my joy that Yahoo mail finally got its head out of its ass and decided to increase the mailbox size. It's about frickin' time! Random, I know.
Oh yeah . . . I just thought of something else to say! Farscape fans may recognize the chapter title as one of Stark's most recognizable quotes. Now, on the off chance anyone reading this is in fact a Farscape fan, I must throw in another quote because Scorpius is awesome and I can't mention Farscape without giving him due respect. "Kill her! Then we'll have pizza . . . and margarita shooters."
Wow, this chapter was a lot shorter until a few minutes ago. I just went on a writing spree and it almost doubled in length. Hmm, I may regret posting it without reading it with a coherent mind (it is 1 am right now, after all) but I've decided to take a risk. I'll repost if it has a lot of errors.
Chapter 17
Your Side, My Side, Your Side, MY Side
Robin's heart dropped to the pit of her stomach when she saw that Michael was the only one left in the office other than the Chief and Hattori. As she wandered forlornly toward her place amidst the empty desks, she saw Michael look up at her out of the corner of his eyes, his fingers frozen above the keyboard. Slowly, he reached up and pulled out one earphone, watching her anxiously.
She found herself staring vacantly at Amon's empty chair, knowing the action would make her feelings all too obvious, yet unable to look away. "Have they all left already?" she inquired quietly, still feeling Michael's gaze on her.
"Yeah. But I um . . . I asked Amon if you could stay behind and help me with some, uh, things." She glanced over to see him leafing through papers on his desk desperately. "Like this." He held up a small stack of papers tentatively with a forced, uncertain smile. "I printed out a bunch of information about ancient symbols like the ones Beatrice has been using, but I haven't had a chance to go through it yet. I thought maybe you could--"
"You didn't really ask Amon for my help, did you, Michael?" Robin felt her expression tighten with a mixture of anger and hurt, but instantly regretted her inability to hide the emotions when she saw him react with a slight grimace. "He intentionally left me behind, didn't he?" Saying the words aloud brought the reality of the fact home. In one night she had undone every bit of progress she had made since her arrival in tearing down Amon's walls. Glancing down at her clothes, she smiled sadly as she realized it wouldn't have mattered what she chose to wear today. Amon had already rebuilt the barriers between them, making them even taller and stronger than they had been before. Zaizen said he would allow whatever was going on between them to continue, but the truth was that there would no longer be anything going on at all. She didn't know why the fact hurt her so deeply. Her mind had already predicted how Amon would act today, but her heart had refused to believe. She had even deluded herself into thinking she would have to make an effort to push Amon away so she could keep her hormones in check. Such an effort was not needed now, it seemed.
Michael's gaze dropped to the papers in his lap. "I'm sorry, Robin," he whispered.
"Don't be sorry. It's not your fault." She found herself untying the ribbons in her hair and allowing the strands to fall loose around her shoulders, though she wasn't sure what had prompted her to do such a thing. She refused to believe she was merely giving in to the temptation to test Amon's resolve now that she knew his intentions. She refused to believe she could be so fickle. Besides, Amon wasn't even here right now to see her with her hair down. Returning her attention to Michael and reaching out to take the papers still gripped in his hands, she heard herself say, "I don't mind spending the day with you, Michael."
A spark of emotion flashed through Michael's eyes as he looked up at her, but he hid it away again quickly. She inwardly kicked herself as she realized she had intentionally provoked his reaction simply because of some childish wish to make Amon jealous. She didn't want to use Michael like that. Prentending he had noticed, Michael revised her statement neutrally as he handed her the printouts, "Just the morning. You're supposed to meet everyone at Harry's at noon."
"At Harry's?" she asked in surprise.
"For lunch," he answered nonchalantly. Then, glancing around the office, he leaned closer to her and murmured, "To meet with Dante."
Her vision clouded for a moment and she turned away from him to hide her fear. "I can't," she murmured.
"What? Why?"
Clutching the papers tightly as she pulled out her chair and slowly sank down into it, she caught sight of his startled expression out of the corner of her eye. "I just can't," she answered simply.
Michael glanced in the direction of Zaizen's office before pushing himself away from his desk and rolling his chair over to her. "Robin," he whispered urgently, his face only a few inches from her own. A blush washed across her face as she looked up at him and saw how close they were. "The Boss . . . he didn't hurt you, did he?"
"No," she answered quickly, shaking her head with vehemence.
Exhaling in relief, Michael combed his fingers through his unruly hair. "Good. Because if he had--"
"Michael," she breathed, catching his arm to get his attention. "Please, promise me you wouldn't put yourself in more danger because of me."
His eyes widened. "Did you lie to me just now?" he gasped.
"No! I just don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me."
"Amon," he murmured in understanding.
She looked down at her knees in shame. "Amon injured Touko because he was protecting me, and we only started working with Dante because I got him involved. I'm the reason Zaizen was angry, and both you and Amon got hurt because of decisions I made." Raising her gaze to meet his again, she continued with determination, "I refuse to be the cause of any more pain."
Managing a small smile, Michael said in the softest of whispers, "You couldn't be. Amon and I have both decided to continue working with Dante despite Zaizen's orders. We are responsible for the consequences, not you."
Robin opened her mouth to respond, but the sound of a throat being cleared loudly made her pause. "This isn't recess on the playground," Chief Kosaka growled, looking out from his office at them with his hands planted firmly on his hips. "Don't you two have work to do?"
"Yes, sir," Michael answered quickly, glancing back at Robin with a reassuring smile and touching her hand lightly before rolling his chair back to his desk.
"That's better," Kosaka huffed. "This is a place of work, not a social club."
A smile tugged at the corners of Robin's mouth as she turned back to her desk and looked down at the reports Michael had given her without really seeing them. Michael had said that both he and Amon had decided to continue working with Dante. The idea of Amon making such a decision seemed preposterous, and yet she couldn't help but wonder if he had done it for her. She shook her head. Foolish. The longer I perpetuate the fantasy, the harder it will be to accept the truth. Amon has made his decision. The sooner I accept it, the better.
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The sound of the opening theme from Lupin the Third being reproduced in annoyingly high pitched tones at a hazardously loud decibel level jarred Dante out of his foggy half-sleep. Several moments passed before he actually connected the bizarre sound with his cell phone and found the presence of mind to realize the horrid ringing would stop if he answered it. Cracking his eyes open ever so slightly and squinting at the harsh light spilling from various gaps around the curtains as well as the crack beneath the bathroom door, he rolled over and dove across the now unoccupied side of the bed to the crumpled pile of leather on the floor which constituted his clothes. Fishing his phone out of the mess, he snapped it open quickly with a sigh of relief when the ear-piercing tune cut off abruptly.
"Dante," he grunted in greeting as he fell back on the bed in exhaustion.
"We need to talk," a smooth baritone voice replied just as brusquely. Dante immediately recognized the voice as belonging to Rambo and found himself wondering once again how he had gotten himself involved with Robin and her crazy friends. That wasn't entirely fair, he supposed; he got along well enough with all the other witch hunters--even Miho had warmed up to him eventually. It was only the dark, brooding man on the other end of the phone right now who was the problem. Whatever Robin saw in Amon to redeem his surly attitude and haughty air was completely invisible to Dante.
Unable to refuse the temptation to irritate the humorless hunter, Dante found himself smirking as he commented, "Well! Good morning, sunshine!" Then, lowering his voice with gravity, he continued with a tight smile, "How exactly did you get my number? It isn't in the book."
"Michael," Amon answered tersely. Dante could imagine Amon's expression: his eyes narrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. Actually, come to think of it, didn't the man always have that expression? "We have a couple leads on Beatrice's whereabouts. I have one I want you and your partner to investigate."
Dante choked on a laugh. "Is that so? Since when did you become my master? I don't take orders."
"I am the lead hunter at the STN-J. If you wish to make use of our resources and combine with our efforts on this hunt, you will have to make some sacrifices." Stunned by Amon's gall, Dante found his hangover-impaired brain struggling in finding a response. Amon sighed softly, but began speaking again before Dante had the chance to voice his annoyance. "Listen, I know you have no reason to trust me . . . but I have little reason to trust you either. You may have gained Robin's trust, but Robin is rather impressionable."
"I don't think you give her enough credit. She's more perceptive than you seem to think." Dante's voice had hardened and acquired a chill edge.
"Robin is very perceptive . . . I never said she wasn't. But she is also young and credulous. She wants to believe the best about people."
"Exactly what are you implying?" Dante noticed Trish poke her head out of the bathroom, a curious expression on her face, but he waved her away and shook his head ever so slightly with a scowl. Raising a dubious brow and rolling her eyes, she returned to the bathroom to finish primping--or whatever it was women did to get ready in the morning that took so damn long.
"You have not been entirely truthful with us," Amon commented, bringing Dante's mind back to the conversation. "I did a little digging this morning and learned some interesting things about you. Could you explain to me what a half-demon is doing hunting demons?"
Sitting up in bed quickly enough to make his alcohol-abused head spin, Dante retorted coldly, "Now, that really isn't any of your business. My reasons are my own, but I never lied about what I am. I never claimed to be something I'm not. What difference should it make to you, anyway?"
"Quite a bit, I should think, when one considers the relation between you and Beatrice. When did you plan on informing us we were hunting a half-demon, not a witch?"
Dante's mouth opened, then closed again. He had been so busy trying to ignore Beatrice's claims of kinship that he hadn't fully considered how much her possible ancestry would change things for the witch hunters. Hunting demons had become second nature to him, but they weren't trained for such an endeavor. "I don't know . . ." he answered finally, hating the fact that Amon had scored a point on him so easily.
"Then how can you possibly expect me to turn leadership over to you?"
Fuming with anger, Dante realized he had no choice in the matter right now--yielding to Amon's command would simply cause the least amount of bloodshed. But he refused to cede control over the situation completely. "Fine. Tag. You're it," he bit off irritably. "But you only make the final decision when it concerns Beatrice's witch followers. I am the expert on demons here, and I make the final decisions when it comes to her. Are we clear?"
Amon paused before answering, and Dante smirked. Score one for the demon hunter. Finally, Amon's voice broke the silence. "I'll accept your terms, so long as you understand this: if any of your 'final decisions' put my people in unnecessary danger, we're out."
"I wouldn't think of putting any of them in such a situation. I may prefer working alone, but that doesn't mean I'm only capable of thinking of myself. I have a partner of my own, and if you ask me, I have a far better grasp of how to work with others than you've proven you have."
"Oh, really?" Trish demanded loudly enough for the phone to easily pick up her statement. He glared up at her. She merely glared back, her arms crossed over her chest and her blue eyes sparking with fire." So, partners are supposed to go off and try to tackle hunts entirely on their own even though their ego's bigger than their brain? Who the hell are you talking to, Dante? I'll have to set them straight on your so-called prolific knowledge of partnership." She had leaned close enough to the phone for Amon to hear every word on the other end despite Dante's attempts to cover the microphone. Dante could just imagine the smirk on the witch hunter's face.
Clearing his throat, Amon stated dryly, "I can see your point." Score number two for the cold-hearted bastard.
"Thanks for your help, Trish," Dante snapped softly. The blonde simply smirked and spun away, her hair billowing around her. Some days he wanted nothing more than to wring her slender little neck. It seemed like they spent more time arguing than they did doing most anything else--except of course for the time they spent making up. Returning his attention to the nuisance on the other end of the line, Dante said frostily, "My point, if I had been allowed to make it--"
"Was about Robin . . . and my maltreatment of her." Dante's eyebrows furrowed at Amon's change in tone. What was this sudden, strange emotion tingeing Amon's voice?
"Yeah." Dante replied hollowly; Amon's quick acknowledgment had taken the steam out of Dante's accusation.
"It's ironic you should bring her up." He paused, as if considering whether or not he should continue. "She is, in fact, the other reason I called you."
Suspecting where Amon was going with this, Dante replied quickly, "Hey, if you're asking me to back off, there's no need. I'm not interested in the babe like that--"
Amon interrupted him again, "You misunderstand me. My request is actually quite the opposite. Robin's interest in me is foolish at best--dangerous at worst. I treat her coldly and keep her at a distance to protect her. I have no wish to hurt her, but it is inevitable for this situation to bring her pain." He paused a second time and Dante was glad Amon couldn't see him shaking his head in astonishment. Amon didn't seem like the kind of guy who shared his personal life freely with anyone, especially someone he didn't fully trust. But perhaps, in this case, it was easier for Amon to confide in him only because he barely knew him. "I believe she would listen to you if you encouraged her to forget about me."
"Damn." Still stunned by Amon's admission, Dante considered his answer for several long moments. He had to admit he was feeling a sudden respect for the man's willpower. Dante barely knew Robin, but he was unable to refuse her when she turned that vivid green gaze on him--and she didn't even look at him the way she looked at Amon. How did Amon manage to push her away, especially when his feelings for her were as strong as his voice betrayed? "I'll do what I can, but I don't know how much she will really listen to me. The girl's in love with you, and it doesn't take a genius to see she can be stubborn when she wants to be."
"I know," Amon whispered. "All I ask is that you try."
"I'll do it. But are you sure this is what you really want?"
Amon laughed sardonically, but did not answer Dante's question. "We are meeting at Harry's at noon to discuss our next step. I had Michael text message you the location I want you to investigate during the two hours before then. If you have any questions, call my phone or Karasuma's. Do not call the office. We're violating our Director's orders by continuing to work with you, Dante. Don't put us in a position that will make us regret doing so."
"Yes, sir," Dante replied sourly. "I'll see you at noon then." Before Amon could issue more orders, Dante hung up and lay back on the bed with a sigh, tapping the phone's antennae against his lips thoughtfully.
Trish wandered back into the room, now fully dressed in tight black pants--surprisingly, not made of leather--and a clinging sapphire blue tank top. Tiny, diamond-studded clips held back small sections of her platinum hair on either side of her head and another stone sparkled from the black choker around her neck. She sat down slowly next to him on the bed and smiled quietly as she drew light patterns over his bare chest with one finger.
Dante raised an eyebrow at her. "I thought you were angry with me."
Still smiling, she stated serenely, her words at odds with her tone, "I am angry with you. Sometimes you really drive me crazy."
He scoffed at her. "The feeling's mutual."
Her smile widened. "Unfortunately, you inspire more than just anger in me. Causes quite a problem."
This time it was his turn to smirk. "Sounds like a real dilemma." He raked his fingernails up her thigh, feeling goose bumps rise on her skin even through the fabric of her pants. "I think I might know how to solve it."
"Not now, Dante," she warned playfully, pressing her palm against his chest when he started to sit up again. "First, I want to know what's going on."
"Rambo's pulling rank on me."
"Rambo? You mean the guy who didn't show up last night? He sounds like a real basket case."
"He has control issues. But . . . I don't think he's such a bad guy. We managed to come to a bit of an understanding."
"Really." She sounded dubious. "What kind of understanding?"
"He has the final say in his area of expertise, and I have the final say in mine."
"So, in essence, you drew a line through the middle of the room and assigned sides. As long as you stay on your side and he stays on his everything is okay." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. "I'm glad to see you're handling this like a mature adult."
"Exactly what part of our compromise is immature?"
Rolling her eyes as she rose to her feet and stretched like a cat, she replied, "You're such a male."
"I should hope so."
"Are you ever going to get dressed and get down to work?" she asked in exasperation as she crossed the room to the window and threw open the curtains, filling the room with the dangerous radiation otherwise known as sunlight. Dante shielded his eyes and groaned in pain. "Oh, get over it. Your a demon remember? Not a vampire. Anyway, all I'm saying is that this hunt isn't going to just hunt itself. Beatrice isn't going to just walk through the door and say, 'Here I am. Come and get me!'"
At that moment, an authoritative knock echoed through the room. Trish spun around in surprise and glanced at Dante who only returned her expression with a shrug and raised brow. Frowning, she marched across the room and answered the door. Dante, in the meantime, reached for Ebony and Ivory and rose from the bed fluidly, pressing himself against the wall parallel to the door and listening to Trish greet their visitor.
"I have a message for . . . a Dante Sparda," a male voice explained, stumbling over the name nervously. "It arrived this morning."
"Thank you," Trish said sweetly.
"N-no problem."
The door closed and Trish peeked around the corner at Dante who had relaxed his pose though the guns were still grasped loosely in his hands. Her eyes scanned over his unclothed body quickly before she offered a sealed letter to him with a smirk. "Bootygram for Mr. Sparda."
She pulled it out of his grasp with a mischievous expression when he reached for it, and he shook his head slowly in amazement. Trish was really asking for it today. Growling softly, he dropped his guns to the floor before snatching her around the waist and then tackling her to the bed when she tried to twist away. Pinning her down with the lower half of his body, he pulled the letter out of her hand with a grin and broke the seal. His grin faded when he saw the message scrawled in ornate, feathery penmanship.
"What is it?" Trish asked, straining to see the piece of paper he was tempted to crumple in his hand.
"You were wrong about Beatrice. This is personal letter from her inviting me 'to my funeral.'" His smirk returned slowly, though with a heavy twist of irony. "I hate to admit it, but she does have style."
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Why is Trish suddenly dressing like Nikita too? sigh I blame it on lizalou42 for letting me borrow her Nikita DVDs. And if you're wondering why this chapter was so Dante centered, you can blame that on my temporary writer's block which forced me to pull out Devil May Cry again for inspiration. That's probably where Dante's comment on Beatrice's "style" came from since playing the game again reminded me of the stylish ratings. It also didn't help my DMC inspiration when I did a random image search and came across some really pretty fanart for DMC on various Japanese sites. drool Now I feel like drawing some of my own. Actually, I feel like drawing some pictures to go along with this story in particular. I'm sure all of you would have good suggestions. Bring 'em on!
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To Dark Mistress Meli: Like my friend lizalou42 said, it seems more and more of my personality is spilling into Doujima. Poor girl. Now you know how insane I am. :) Interesting point about Zaizen. I think that fear is a driving force in many a bad guy's actions. At least "bad guys" of Zaizen's ilk. Even Amon's a bit afraid of Robin, I think, though I haven't exactly played that up much in my story.
To Amon's Angel of the Darkness: I'd love to send you spoilers of the story except that lately I haven't been keeping too far ahead of my postings--and what I have written is so sketchy it's basically like notes to myself to be fleshed out later. Also, I have several different options in mind on how the plot's going to work itself out and haven't decided which path to take yet. I almost have to write myself through it.
It was cute how Amon was all concerned about Robin meeting with Zaizen, wasn't it? Aw. And I have read Ais' story and must admit first brought the phrase to my attention, but I had to put it in when I was making Nikita references because I just about died when I realized Michael (from Nikita) says it a lot too. Don't know if I'll make the two updates Friday. :) I have been a little stuck lately. My muse is being stingy with inspiration.
To Inuki: I emailed you all of this, but I'm posting it for anyone else who'd like to read the response. Some of the video game stuff was totally from the KLAD parodies written way back when, but this way I get to share it with more people which is always fun. Poor Amon. But it's true that those who often act the toughest and emotionless-est (wow, isn't that an interesting made up word) are actually rather down on themselves. I have not yet
revealed why Amon lets Zaizen beat him up, though I didn't just pull the whole situation out of my ass. There actually is a scene in the show that supports the beating up
thing though it implies more of a one time deal. I tried to plan ahead when I was writing so I knew where the story was going, but it also helps to have a good portion of the story written before you start posting. Yeah, I am twisted. I enjoy torturing characters. It's one of my favorite pastimes. Apparently I also enjoy torturing readers though, huh?
To Selenium: Sorry for my delays lately in posting. I promise I won't go months without posting, and I will finish the story--though who knows how frickin' long it will be by then. I've been saying I'm going to finish my original piece of fiction for a long time, but it just keeps getting longer! But, I've been fighting a lack of inspiration lately for the scenes I have to write before I get to the scenes I'm actually inspired for. Ah well. I'm glad to hear you feel like you can picture the scenes in your mind. I often feel like I'm watching a movie when I'm writing; I can see the camera angles and the transitions between scenes and I act out all the parts in my mind. Sounds freaky, I know. But I have a vivid imagination. What can I say? I'm just glad to hear other people can enjoy at least some of it through my writing. More AxR soon!
To Tsukinoko1: I'm glad you enjoyed the Nikita references. Yeah, aside from the romance area, Doujima totally fits as Nikita. I'm going to have fun deciding on her clothes from now on with the Nikita inspiration.
To Chibi Tenshi: Thanks for the compliments! Glad I could make your day with an update. And it's fun to be able to share my Nikita obsession at the same time as my WHR and DMC obsessions. Oh, and various other video game obsessions. Gee, this fanfic is just turning into one long list of my obsessions. Yeah, Amon is being a dork. And he would probably murder us both for calling him that. But we don't care, do we? And I rewarded you with Dante antics in this brief chapter. I hope you approved. I actually own part of Doujima's "Nikita" outfit--the skirt--though I probably don't look as cute in it as she or Nikita would.
To Tiger of the Wind1: I am shamed. And I think the Frying Pan of Doom is a great idea. Reminds me of "Particle Man" by They Might be Giants. "Person man, person man, hit on the head with a frying pan . . ."
To GoWaitInTheCar: No worries! I was just curious because I couldn't remember any more details about Virgil from the first two games. I'm interested in hearing what your insider contact knows about the new game though I will pretend I didn't learn anything to change my view of the DMC universe when I'm writing my fic just for consistency.
To busoshwe: Funny you should mention Sakaki being Walter--it did cross my mind. I also considered Kosaka as Walter because he's a bit of an old pervert. :) I don't know if I can give Auron up, but I can let you have the rest. Though you should hear my David Bowie impression. It's pretty silly. I could also claim a few other people, but the reality is that most anyone I truly cannot live without has character equivalents in my original fiction which I can claim complete ownership over. Convenient, eh?
To Aliora: Do not be ashamed. I saw such random episodes of Nikita when it was on that I feel like I've never seen it before now that I'm watching them in order. I like subtlety myself, so it relieves me to hear others enjoy it as well. If you're up for another recommendation--this time for published fiction--I am really influenced in my writing by Cheryl J. Franklin and the way she develops relationships between her characters. If you like sci-fi at all, you should check her books out. The Inquisitor is a good one to start with. They're a little hard to find, but they're worth it. Jase Sleide (the lead male character in The Inquisitor) is worth it.
