Author's Note:
Readers beware: writer was hormonal when she wrote this chapter. (But I think you'll like it.)
I also included a random cameo from another anime, but it's pretty brief and unimportant—though cute—so it doesn't matter if you catch the reference or not. I couldn't help myself because I stole the location in the first scene from their story. The complete off-the-wall-ness of the setting was the catalyst I needed to start writing, so I thought I owed the characters something for the inspiration.
Chapter 28
Where It's At
"This is some meeting point," Trish commented to Sakaki as he pulled his bike to a stop next to her.
Taking off his helmet and shaking out his hair, Sakaki said with a smirk, "Amon has a knack for finding obscure locations like this."
"We don't exactly blend in here though, do we?" Climbing off Dante's bike, she surveyed the park with a frown. The sign on the gate read "Penguin Park," and most of the playground equipment followed the theme, the centerpiece of which was a large, plump penguin with a crown on its head. Stairs climbed up its back and an opening led through the beak to a slide. "How quaint."
Approaching the swings where Robin and Doujima were waiting for them, Trish noted that Robin's eyes seemed a bit glazed and her cheeks were slightly flushed. Doujima was sitting on the swing next to her, swinging in a slow, shallow arc and kicking her feet lightly against the cedar chips carpeting the ground. Robin, on the other hand, was keeping her own swing carefully still.
"Grab a swing," Doujima offered when she saw them. "Want to race? I bet I can swing higher!"
"That is so childish," Sakaki scoffed.
"Look who's talking," Doujima said, her eyes narrowed as she skidded to a stop, her heels digging into the ground.
"I take it the boys aren't here yet?" Trish asked, leaning back against one of the metal poles supporting the swings and crossing her arms.
"Not yet," Robin replied without looking at her, a complacent expression on her face. She was focused on some object on the other side of the park, but when Trish followed her gaze she didn't find anything of interest.
"Are you okay, Robin?" Trish asked, glancing at Doujima who was once again swinging slowly.
Looking up at her with a larger smile than Trish had ever seen her make, Robin replied, "I'm fine." She blinked slowly before shifting her focus again to the ground in front of her, taking a deep breath. The fact that Robin was not "fine" exactly was fairly obvious, but Trish didn't think she had anything wrong enough with her to cause concern. If she didn't know better, she might have thought Robin was a little buzzed, but considering Robin's timid personality that didn't seem very likely.
"Hey!" Doujima cried suddenly, and Trish glanced at her in time to see Sakaki shove her swing hard from behind. "Stop it, Haruto!" He shoved her again and she leapt out of the swing, landing on the ground in an awkward stumble. Leaning against a penguin shaped drinking fountain, she glared back at Sakaki and groaned. Reaching down to rub the top of her foot, she whined, "You made me land wrong, you idiot."
Sakaki shrugged. "I didn't tell you to jump."
"Children," Trish admonished in a weary voice, "I know this is a playground, but let's cut the play for the moment, okay?" Doujima and Sakaki flirted even more than Trish flirted with Dante, and though she had found their antics to be endearing originally, they were starting to grate on her nerves. The afterglow of her resurrection had faded somewhat and the realization that she had probably died today was sinking in. Her mood wasn't improved by the knowledge that she might get the opportunity to die a second time if she wasn't careful.
Blinking blearily at the road curving around the park, Robin announced suddenly, "They're here." Trish turned to see a speck of a car in the distance. She knew for a fact that Robin couldn't have better eyesight than hers, so she assumed Robin had felt them coming before she saw them.
Suppressing a shiver, Trish watched Amon's car as it drew closer and tried not to think about the spark of jealousy burning inside of her. Dante had been the first being in her life to show her kindness without a motive. He had been her first encounter with human blood that hadn't left her with a feeling of disgust and disappointment, and he had been the first man to attract her with such undeniable intensity. She had developed an attachment to him, and though she knew he was not the kind of man to be pinned down by vows and commitments, part of her wanted that assurance of her claim on him.
Though she knew his relationship with Robin was purely platonic, the thought of someone else having a closer connection to him than she could ever have was maddening. She couldn't blame Robin, or anyone really—except perhaps Beatrice—and she knew she was being extremely selfish to be jealous of Robin's link with Dante when it was something that had been forced upon them both. She knew all the facts, and all the reasons why she shouldn't feel the way she did, and yet the feelings lingered. This is what it means to be human. She didn't have a drop of human blood in her veins, but she had still managed to develop human emotions over the years—perhaps the only upside to this form Mundus had given her. It was both a blessing and a curse.
The car stopped at the gate of the park and the passenger door opened. Dante climbed out, shoving the door shut behind him with more force than was necessary. He shook his head as he walked toward them, his hands in his pockets. Amon did not make a move to exit the car, and Trish could hear the motor still humming quietly; it seemed that he was being even more antisocial than usual.
"This park is pretty sweet. Anyone up for a game of tag football?" Dante asked with a strained grin, but all Trish could see was the half-healed cut on his cheek. Sweeping her eyes over his clothes, Trish found other signs of a fight in the rip in his sleeve and the disheveled state of his hair—even messier than usual.
"Looks like you already played a game or two," Trish said with forced nonchalance, uncrossing her arms and reaching up to tame his tangled locks with her fingers. "What happened?"
Leaning his head back to pull his hair out of her grasp, Dante avoided her question. Glancing at Robin, he said, "Amon's waiting for you in the car, kiddo." Trish made note of the fact that Dante had called Amon by his real name before shifting her focus to Robin. The craft-user clutched at the chains suspending her swing as she rose cautiously. She didn't sway on her feet, but she didn't seem entirely steady either. Dante grasped her arm gently when she walked past. "You okay, babe?"
Robin looked up at him, her eyes still slightly unfocused. She smiled in that uncharacteristically open way again and Trish saw Dante tense a little. "Mmm-hmm," she answered. Then, her expression sobering somewhat, she asked quietly, "Is Touko all right?"
"She's fine," Dante reassured her.
Noticing the rip in Dante's sleeve and tracing it lightly with a finger, she asked with a frown, "Were you attacked?"
Dante shrugged. "Nothing I couldn't handle."
"Is Amon hurt?"
"Nah."
She nodded, her expression introspective, but her gaze was still focused on the tear in his coat. "Was it Beatrice?"
Dante's grin slipped a little. "No." Trish raised an eyebrow at his complete lack of an explanation; his tone was lighthearted, but the traces of the fight were more serious than his tone suggested.
Robin looked up at him, her expression very solemn now. "If it wasn't Beatrice, then…"
"It's nothing to worry about," Dante said dismissively, releasing his light grip on her arm. "But you should probably get in Amon's car before he runs out of gas. Something tells me he wouldn't like hitchhiking. He probably doesn't even have a towel."
"Towel?" Robin repeated questioningly.
Smiling, Dante said, "Nothing. Just go on. I'll see you later."
Nodding again, Robin started walking toward Amon's car, her balance still more considered than seemed natural. When she was out of earshot, Trish grabbed the front of Dante's jacket to pull him toward her again. Brushing the dust off of it firmly, she demanded, "So, what happened exactly? Did you find some random fiends to play with?"
His smile twisting sourly, Dante took her ministrations with barely repressed annoyance. "I kicked over Amon's sand castle."
"Oh? So what happened to that understanding the two of you came to?" Dante didn't respond and Trish's eyes focused on his face again, but he was looking in the direction of Doujima and Sakaki. Watching the hunters as they exchanged a glance, she realized he was silently asking her to delay this conversation until they were alone.
"So that's why Amon didn't get out of the car," Doujima said, pouncing on the potential piece of gossip.
"Did you beat up Amon?" Sakaki added boldly, an eager expression on his face. "It's about time someone knocked some sense into him."
Sidestepping their comments, Dante said, "Amon wants the two of you to head for the lake. Get as close as you can to Beatrice's location without tipping her off. As soon as you see her beginning the ritual, contact him and the rest of us will take our positions."
Her lips pouting, Doujima asked, "How did we get stuck with the boring job?"
"Because Robin's presence will alert Beatrice if she gets that close, and the same goes for Amon and I because of our connection to Robin," Dante explained impatiently. He shifted his gaze to Amon's car as it took off and added, "You'd better get going if you don't want a lecture from Rambo."
Shaking his head, Sakaki muttered to Doujima, "I think Amon got to him."
Trish placed a hand on Dante's shoulder when she saw him tensing again, his lips pressing together into a thin line. She had to admit that he was acting far more serious than usual at the moment, and his sudden, strange respect for Amon was very out of character. "You have the guns, don't you, Sakaki?" she asked, quickly changing the topic.
Sakaki nodded. "Yeah. And the extra ammo."
"Good. Hopefully you won't need them, but you never know." Sakaki nodded again, but neither he nor Doujima made a move to leave. "Well, good luck," Trish said with a tight smile, leaning against Dante casually.
Doujima finally got the hint. "Okay… See you guys later," she sighed. "If we survive the boredom," she added under her breath as she headed for her car. Sakaki hurried to catch up, glancing back at Dante with a frown.
When they were gone, Dante released the breath he had been holding in an angry hiss. Taking a step away to get a better look at him, Trish raised an eyebrow. "So, why did you get in Amon's sandbox?"
Dante glanced at her with narrowed eyes. "I don't expect you to understand, Trish."
"And why is that? Because this is one of those ultra male machismo situations that women just can't understand?"
"I'm not in the mood, Trish," he said with a shake of his head, turning halfway away from her. His body language had "stay the hell away" written all over it, but she had never been very good at doing the right thing.
Walking her fingers up his arm as she leaned toward him, she said, "Or will I not understand because you don't understand it yourself?"
Brushing her hand off his shoulder, he snapped, "I understand it just fine. Let it go."
"I just want to know why you would just pick a fight with him, especially right now. And I don't think you're avoiding telling me because I can't understand. You just don't want me to understand."
"Yes, Trish, that's it," he said blandly. "You happy now?"
"Dante!" Trish growled, punching him lightly in the arm. She was surprised when he winced.
"Okay, fine! We fought like a couple of school kids on the playground. So what? It's been building up since the moment we met. At least he didn't lose his temper on someone else."
Trish gasped softly in comprehension. Someone else… They had fought over Touko. The twinge of jealousy she had been able to logically explain away but not entirely destroy twisted inside her chest. "I see." Suddenly she didn't feel like listening to any more. This was why he had been avoiding telling her the whole truth—but it had slipped out in the end anyway. Clenching her jaw, she stepped around him and began walking down the sidewalk toward his motorcycle, wishing she had her own vehicle and trying to ignore the temptation to simply leave him behind and go for a ride on her own.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
She kept her tone carefully casual. "We should probably find a place to wait closer to the lake, don't you think?" Though she knew she was being immature, she couldn't help making an effort to swing her hips a little more than usual.
"Uh-huh," he said flatly. "So, you're pissed at me now, aren't you?" She didn't respond, but a few steps later she was enveloped by the warmth of his arms as they wrapped around her in an almost painfully tight grip. He pulled her back against him and her heels lifted off the ground, his breath hot against the back of her neck. "Or are you just jealous?"
"Dante," she said coolly, digging at his forearms as they tightened around her waist.
He nipped lightly at her ear before commenting, "Besides, I thought you liked a little machismo now and then."
She groaned in half-frustration, half-delight. "If I didn't know better, I would think you're trying to make up for something."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Dante didn't ease his grip, but he pulled his lips away from her neck.
"You just can't help saving the damsel in distress, can you?" She regretted it as soon as she said it, knowing how pathetic the accusation made her sound.
Dante released her abruptly. "That's what pissed you off? Geez, Trish, you really are too jealous for your own good—or mine."
Standing there, mourning the loss of his warmth and closeness, Trish sighed softly but didn't say a word.
"What was I supposed to do? Let Rambo go apeshit on her? I thought you were worried about his treatment of her too."
"I was," she admitted, rubbing her arms where he had been gripping her moments ago. "Forget it. I'm just tired, I guess."
"Tired?" he echoed doubtfully, and she heard him take a step toward her.
"Yeah." She began walking toward the bike again, feeling foolish and frustrated with her very human emotions. She didn't know what she wanted from him anymore than he did, and she hated that fact.
Pausing beside the motorcycle, she turned back to look at him over her shoulder. His expression wasn't anger as she had expected. Instead, it was a riotous mixture of annoyance, worry and desire. Pinning her between the bike and him, a hand on the seat on either side of her, his voice dropped into that low tone that did things to her insides as he said, "When are you going to start trusting me?"
"I do trust you," Trish said firmly, trying to keep her voice even despite the anticipation thrilling through her.
"You could have fooled me."
Unable to stop the smile spreading across her lips, she slid her hands around his neck slowly and pulled herself closer to him. "I trust you, but there are parts of you I don't have as much trust in," she purred, tilting her hips and grinding against him with a playful smile.
A dark smile crossed his features. "The same goes for you, sweetheart," he said in that deep rumble, moving one of his hands from the bike to the small of her back, fanning his fingers out over her spine as he pressed her closer.
Unable to stand the tension any longer, she clenched her fingers in his hair and attacked his lips with a fervor that she could tell surprised him by his initial unresponsiveness. He quickly fought back though, moaning into her mouth as she rocked her hips against him again. Trish pushed the kiss to the point of near suffocation, not allowing him to pull away until she was seeing lightning behind her eyelids and her head was spinning. His hand had wandered a bit lower during the kiss, but he didn't loosen his grip when their lips separated. They both panted for a few moments, and Trish buried her face against his neck, drinking in the rich, heady scent of his skin.
Chuckling darkly as he straightened, pulling her with him and lifting her feet off the ground again, he teased, "I thought you were tired, Trish."
"I didn't say what I was tired of, though, did I?" she replied, her eyes drifting shut as she relaxed her grip on his hair and sighed against his neck.
"What are you staring at, monster?" a young male voice said suddenly, and Trish glanced back over her shoulder to see a young girl on roller blades gaping at them with wide green eyes. A dark-haired boy on a bicycle paused beside her, thumping the girl lightly on the back of the head. She spun around to face him with a growl.
"Touya-nii!" she cried, attempting to hit him back but loosing her balance on her skates.
Her brother evaded the blow easily and caught her before she fell, but his grey eyes were now focused on Trish and Dante. His eyes widened as he looked at them, a wary expression on his face. Trish had the ridiculous sensation that his distrust was not simply based on their attire or obvious displacement in a park; she had the feeling that he knew they weren't human, though she didn't know how he could have possibly figured out such a thing just by looking at them.
"Can I help you?" Dante asked, finally releasing Trish and straightening to his full stature, a challenging expression on his face.
"No," the boy said quickly. "I'm sorry. Please excuse my sister." With a firm grip on his sister's shoulder, he got back on his bike as he added, "Let's go, Sakura."
They disappeared around a curve in the road, and Trish looked up at Dante with a smile. "Maybe we should get out of here before we attract more unwanted attention."
"Good idea."
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Sakaki fingered the cold metal of the gun Trish had entrusted him with after their shopping adventure. They had only purchased ammunition and other, less controversial weapons at the store, including various blades and a katana. Guns were hard to come by in Japan, so it must have been one of the extras she and Dante had brought with them from overseas. He didn't even want to think about how they had managed to bring so many weapons into the country without incident, but he supposed they were used to transporting such things. They must have had their methods.
"Have you ever shot a real gun, Doujima?" he asked quietly, checking the safety again.
Doujima pulled the small binoculars away from her eyes and glanced at him. "Sure," she replied in a self-assured tone of voice he rarely heard from her. He hadn't expected her flat, genuine response, and he certainly hadn't expected the answer it contained.
"Really?"
Her expression changed entirely then, returning to the bored, mindless expression she generally wore, and familiarity tickled the back of Sakaki's mind. He had seen her demeanor change like that before, and every time it happened it left him with an uneasy feeling that he couldn't quite put his finger on. "Yeah," she said with a smile. "When I was finishing my training in Europe I took a course in firearms."
"You trained in Europe?" Sakaki asked in surprise, unable to hide the hint of envy in his voice. Because she had gotten her job at the STN-J through her father's influence in Solomon, he had always assumed her training had been only cursory. Her skills during hunts certainly indicated as much, and so he had always taken pride in the fact that—though he was the rookie on the team—Doujima was even less competent than him. The thought that she had actually trained in Europe when he had been unable to do so for financial reasons was more than a little aggravating.
"Yeah," she answered hesitantly, hiding her eyes behind the binoculars again. "I was interested in European fashion."
His expression souring, Sakaki leaned against the tree beside him with a sigh. "So, you convinced daddy to let you study in Europe so you could go shopping?"
"It was a mistake though," she said without looking at him. "Mind numbingly boring." How typical of her. She had been freely given something he would have died to have, and she hadn't even bothered to appreciate it.
Trying to ignore his pangs of resentment, Sakaki frowned down at the small black figures moving in the valley below them. He tried to summon other images to mind, characters from a game or something else equally benign, but his mind wouldn't let him slip away into an imaginary world this time. The closest he got was the wish that he could beckon other, more helpful black-clad figures to their aid: an all-male cheer squad complete with black coats and bright red bands around their arms who would dance and cheer them to victory. He had a feeling that they would need some encouragement before the evening was over, but he doubted they would find an ouendan to do it.
"Do you think we'll need to use the guns?" he asked quietly, his attention drifting back to the gun in his hand.
"Maybe. Does that bother you?" Sakaki didn't reply, and she turned to look at him again. "Trish said that we might have to fight more than witches, and orbo doesn't work very well on the creatures Beatrice might send after us. Karasuma found that out the hard way."
"Yeah, I know," he snapped.
"What's your deal?" she asked, arching a brow and pressing one hand against her hip in a very feminine pose of annoyance.
"I don't have a deal," he replied quickly, avoiding her gaze.
"You shoot an orbo gun all the time. A real gun isn't that different."
He nodded. "Yeah."
"And besides, you wouldn't shut up about all the guns in that James Bond game you played. You had them memorized with their strengths and weaknesses and everything."
"Hey, what are they doing down there?" Sakaki asked, as much to shut her up as to find out what the small, black-robed figures were doing huddling around something at the center of the clearing.
Returning her attention to the gathering of figures, Doujima said, "It looks like they're starting a fire."
"Do you think we should call Amon?"
"Not yet. There's still no sign of Beatrice. It looks like they're still just setting up. I don't think they'll get started until after nightfall anyway."
"I guess Robin was right about this location after all though, wasn't she?" Sakaki commented, afraid that she would return to the previous topic of conversation if he didn't provide a new one.
"Seems that way," Doujima said inattentively, still looking through the binoculars. She had fallen into that reserved, serious behavior again and it was starting to unnerve him. This wasn't a typical hunt, and Sakaki was already more concerned about it than he was about most hunts, but he didn't need Doujima acting serious as well to remind him of the danger of their situation.
"Amon took it pretty well though, didn't he? He didn't even question her. Most of the time he cross-examines everything she says."
"I guess he just saw the validity of her conclusion," Doujima said, still distracted by whatever she was seeing through the binoculars. Sakaki frowned. Validity of her conclusion? That was a sophisticated way of saying things for someone who used Osakan slang most of the time.
"Yeah, I guess… But what do you think about him and Dante? Do you think Amon stayed in the car because he has a black eye or something? I hope Michael saved a copy of the surveillance tape so we can have a look at it later. I'd love to see Amon's face when Dante hit him."
"Hey Haruto," Doujima said, leaning against a tree branch to keep herself balanced as she continued staring through the binoculars. "Is it just me, or is it getting kind of foggy out here?"
Looking around, Sakaki realized that she had a point. The air felt moister, and the black-hooded figures were less distinct than they had been. Dark soot rose from the bonfire they had built and flames flickered behind them as they moved around the clearing, but there was more than a normal amount of smoke obscuring the air. "Maybe they put something in the fire," he suggested. Doujima didn't respond in words, squealing suddenly and causing his heart to nearly leap out of his chest and up through his windpipe. Grabbing her to get her attention, he hissed, "Quiet, Yurika! They'll hear you."
"What is she thinking?" Doujima demanded despairingly, pulling the binoculars away from her eyes in disgust. "Those boots are too much!"
"Huh?" Sakaki grabbed the binoculars out of her hand when she didn't reply.
The scene looked like something from a horror movie. The black figures resolved into men and women dressed in thick black robes so long they dragged along the ground. They were busily building a stone altar and cutting symbols into the ground in a large circle around the bonfire, pouring white sand into the grooves once they were cut. It was definitely creepy, but he didn't understand Doujima's reactions until he saw the teenagers huddled off to the side of the altar; they were gagged, their hands tied behind their backs and their feet tied at the ankles. Judging by their extreme attire, Sakaki guessed they were loiterers from Harajuku. One of the girls was wearing thigh-high boots covered in what looked like faux fur with a lime green miniskirt and torn plaid shirt patched with bits of bright pink cloth. She was almost certainly the cause of Doujima's outrage.
Reassured by Doujima's return to normalcy, he rolled his eyes at her. "You almost blew our cover over a fashion emergency?"
Her arms crossed over her chest, Doujima pouted at him. "No one deserves to be a human sacrifice for Beatrice, but if someone has to die, at least it'll be someone with horrible fashion sense."
Shaking his head, Sakaki looked through the binoculars again and gasped. He had to blink several times to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. "Oh my god."
"I don't think I want to know," Doujima moaned. "Those boots were enough to scar me for life."
"Doujima!" Sakaki shoved the binoculars into her hands. "The Director is down there too!"
Her eyes widening in surprise, she quickly returned her attention to the clearing. "He's tied up with the others! I don't believe it… Are we supposed to rescue him too?"
"Maybe we should call Amon," Sakaki suggested for the second time.
"Yeah," Doujima agreed this time. "Maybe we—" She cut off mid-sentence, her spine straightening and fear crossing her features.
"What is it?" Sakaki asked, a twinge of panic entering his voice.
"Shh!" she hissed.
Then Sakaki heard it: a soft, threatening growl coming from the woods behind them. He turned slowly to see hundreds of glowing eyes approaching in the twilight darkness. Gripping the butt of his gun, Sakaki snapped it up, shifting his aim indecisively as he saw grotesque, demonic forms approaching on numerous gangly legs.
"This is it," Doujima said, pulling out her own gun smoothly.
As if her action had been a signal, the creatures leapt toward them. Unloading a clip at the stampeding mess of misshapen forms, Sakaki screamed, "Ouendaaaaaan!" but knew that there wouldn't be a cheer squad coming to his rescue any time soon.
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The sun turned the sky a hundred shades of fire as it slowly sunk toward the horizon, its brazen hue reflected on the irregular surface of the lake below them. A cool breeze meandered into the car through the open windows, teasing his hair and filling his nose with the scent of blooming cherry blossoms and his mind with the memory of another place and another time long ago. It was a memory he would have rather left buried, especially considering recent events; things were complicated enough as they were without bringing up old ghosts.
Most people would have found the setting to be exceptionally romantic. They were parked on a wide shoulder of a road that snaked around the perimeter of the lake, perched on a cliff with a magnificent view of the sunset, and Amon couldn't ignore the fact that it would have been an ideal lookout point to use at the conclusion of a date. Yet here he was, sharing this potentially perfect moment on the eve of what could turn out to be the end of the world with a fifteen-year-old girl—a girl who acted far older than her years, and a girl he would give his life for, but a fifteen-year-old girl nevertheless.
Robin was looking every bit of her scant fifteen years at the moment. She sighed in contentment, her eyes closed and a small smile curving her lips as she leaned toward the open window and the fragrant air outside. She looked so very young when she smiled like that and guilt wrenched his heart. He had managed to forget the guilt for a while, but it always came back, increasing each time it returned. Looking at her, the desire to touch her was so intense he had to grip the door to resist brushing the loose strands of hair out of her face. But such thoughts seemed perverse when she looked so young and innocent.
He had to look away as his guilt brought that troublesome memory came to mind again, reminding him of responsibility and duty—and facing the consequences of his actions.
It had been a beautiful spring day like this one, scented with the aroma of flowering trees. Simone's mother had shown up at the facility where he had been training to become a hunter, and he had instantly sensed something was different—that something had changed and he could never put it back the way it had been before. She had looked haggard and anxious when she told him they needed to talk, but he had shrugged and opened the door of his car for her, trying not to think of all the possible reasons she might have for such an urgent conversation.
They had gone for a drive without a destination and ended up somewhere in the countryside. She hadn't started talking until they were out of the city, the beauty of the day jarringly incongruous to her words. She told him she was pregnant and had decided to keep the baby, and he had stared at the road, dumbfounded and numb at the thought of being a father. She had taken his silence for anger and assumed he wanted nothing to do with their child, but she had misunderstood the source of his fear. He had been thinking of the horror of growing up with a parent who was growing crazier each day and fearing the shadowy place deep inside of him that he knew would someday explode. His fears had been too debilitating for him to even voice at the time though, and they had argued the entire way back into the city. The sour memory of that beautiful day turned upside down had haunted him ever since.
Amon sighed in a mockery of the satisfied sound Robin had made a moment before, frowning as he looked out the window, his arm resting on the door and his hand involuntarily tightening into a fist. He felt as if he was on his last reserves of energy, and even those were quickly being depleted by the chaos of his own emotions and the constant tug of his craft on his control. Remembering the past wasn't doing anything to help him reign in his emotions either.
"Amon?"
He could feel Robin's questioning green gaze on him, but he didn't turn to look at her. "What is it, Robin?"
"You're so far away," she murmured. "You have been since you picked me up. What happened at the office? Dante wouldn't tell me."
"It's unimportant."
"Was the Director there?" Her voice was faint, and he could feel her fear. He supposed he should have expected her conclusion considering the state he had been in when he arrived at Harry's. Dante had given him another green orb, healing the bruises before they formed, but signs of their fight had remained in his rumpled clothes and the pink shadow of the freshly mended cut on his lip.
Sighing again, he answered, "No. He wasn't there."
"Then why—"
"Dante and I had a misunderstanding." Admitting the truth relieved some of the tension in his shoulders, though he could feel her concern increasing in proportion to his relief.
"You fought?" Robin's voice was so sad in the quiet, and he ached to tell her that the fight hadn't been his fault, but he couldn't lie to her.
"Yes."
"Was it about Touko?"
Amon shook his head, finally turning his head enough to look at her out of the corner of his eyes. "It wasn't about anything."
A wrinkle had formed between Robin's brows, and her frown had deepened, but he imagined that the expression wasn't having the effect on him she was intending since it only made her look more endearing to him than usual. "It had to be about something. Dante wouldn't fight over nothing."
Annoyance flaring, Amon looked away again. "And I would?"
"That's not what I meant." Robin's sigh was no longer one of contentment.
Struggling to gain control over his emotions once again, Amon focused on forcing his fisted hand to relax. How could he possibly explain the fight to her when he barely understood it himself? Dante had provoked him beyond the limit of his patience and he had reacted with violence, conscious thought ceasing as his emotions took over, spilling out though his fists. The aspect of the fight he had the most difficulty accepting was the fact that Dante had let him do it. He had pushed him over the edge knowing what the consequences would be and accepted them without a word.
Disgusted with himself, Amon had felt queasy when he finally came back to his senses at the end of the fight, almost enjoying the pain of Dante's retaliation. The memory of Zaizen's abuse was still too fresh in his mind, and the similarity of Zaizen's brutality to the mindless violence Amon had unleashed on Dante was enough to fill Amon with self-loathing. The ease with which Dante had usurped Amon's control made his head spin, and though he knew Dante had a knack for pushing his buttons, he also knew his own weakness had been as much at fault.
"It won't happen again," Amon said finally, knowing his answer was inadequate but hoping it would appease her.
She remained silent, and after waiting for a response for as long as he could stand, Amon dragged his gaze back to her. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, but her expression was difficult to interpret. Even with their connection, he couldn't make sense of her feelings.
Turning as much as he could in his seat to face her, he asked quietly, "Are you angry with me, Robin?"
Robin's expression became even more enigmatic as she shifted in her seat and looked up at him, her brows furrowing and her lips pouting slightly. "Do you still care for Touko?"
He should have expected the question, but for some reason he had not. Refocusing his eyes on the dashboard with a frown, he considered his answer. "My relationship with Touko was one of necessity. I haven't cared for her in a long time."
"That's not true," Robin stated with such assurance that his gaze snapped back to her in surprise. "I can feel what you feel, remember?" she offered in explanation.
"Then you misunderstood my feelings."
"No. You're denying them."
"Robin," he said with a hint of warning, though he wasn't sure what he was warning her about.
She turned away, looking outside again and catching a pink petal in the palm of her hand as it blew in through the window. Amon watched her in frustration. He felt helpless when she ignored him so purposefully because he knew that forcing her to return her attention to him would require a sacrifice on his part. "I don't love her, Robin," he said with a touch of anger. "I never did, and I certainly don't now."
"You don't love her," she agreed absently, still looking out the window. "But you don't hate her either, even though you pretend to."
He stared at the side of her head, dumbfounded. He had given all he was willing to give to this conversation. Either she would have to explain herself or he would stay silent until they heard from Doujima and Sakaki. It might not have been the most adult way of dealing with her, but he was tired and emotionally strung out. He simply had nothing left to give at the moment.
To his surprise, she explained herself without further encouragement. "It took me a while to see past your anger, but I think I understand now. You want to protect her."
"What!" Amon asked incredulously. "Robin, she's not the one I'm interested in protecting."
Turning enough to look at him out of the corner of her eyes, she countered, "You can only protect one person at a time?"
Closing his eyes, Amon rubbed his temples and leaned back in his seat. This conversation was far too complicated for his capacity to deal with it at the moment. She shifted in her seat and he resolved to ignore her for the moment. Nevertheless, he jerked in reaction to the sensation of her warm fingertips on his wrist. His eyes snapped open, and he was surprised by the proximity of her face. "To answer your question, no, I'm not angry with you," she said quietly, as if in apology for prying into his feelings.
A familiar scent on her breath made him stiffen in surprise, his brows drawing together in concern. Grasping her upper arms firmly, he demanded, "Robin, have you been drinking?" Suddenly the blush on her cheeks and her odd behavior made complete sense.
Looking up at him sheepishly, she replied, "Doujima ordered a chocolate martini for me. I told her I didn't want one, but she said I needed to relax and made me drink it."
"And?" Amon asked, sensing there was more to the story.
"It tasted really good…" Her blush intensified. "So I ordered another one."
He could do nothing but gape at her in disbelief for several moments. He wondered if this had been Robin's first experience with alcohol and remembered again just how young she was. Releasing her arms with a frown, he repressed the lecture forming on his tongue; Doujima deserved the lecture more than Robin did. How had she convinced Master Harry to serve her martinis, anyway? Still, this was definitely among the more irresponsible things Robin had ever done.
"Are you angry?" she asked softly, and he wasn't so weary that he failed to notice that she was echoing his previous question.
Looking at her through half-lidded eyes, his expression tight, he said, "You tell me. Apparently you know more about my feelings than I do."
A mischievous expression crossed her features, and he opened his eyes all the way, watching her more carefully. "You want to kiss me."
Consciously closing his mouth after his jaw had dropped open in shock, he wondered what more alcohol would do to Robin if it only took a couple martinis to make her this bold. "Robin…" he began without any idea of how to finish his sentence.
Her hands pressing into the edge of her seat, she leaned toward him and he struggled with himself to think of a way to stop her without hurting her feelings. Thought ceased moments later when her lips met his in a sloppy kiss and she crawled up onto her knees in her seat, one of her hands relocating from the seat to his thigh. Her mouth was hot and tasted like chocolate and alcohol, and he couldn't stop himself from kissing her back hungrily. His hands had found their way to her hair, loosening it from its ribbons roughly. She was practically in his lap at this point and he moaned into her mouth when he felt her pulling his shirt out of his pants.
You have to stop her! his poor, abused conscience screamed at him, but his hands weren't listening as they fought the folds of her skirt. He didn't allow himself enough thought to consider the fact that he needed to stop himself before he could stop her. She had managed to slide one of her hands beneath his shirt and his conscience was quickly fading into the background as the pounding of his heart and the need burning through his veins drowned it out.
As if his conscience hadn't been distraction enough, he had only just found the bare skin of a slender leg beneath her skirt when he felt his craft rising inside of him. The breeze whipping through his hair was no longer light and airy with the fragrance of cherry blossoms—it was icy cold and scented faintly with musk and smoke, and he knew that it was his own power changing the currents in the air. The world seemed to crystallize around him, his powers casting everything into high relief and his senses heightening to the point of almost painful clarity. Robin's craft reacted immediately, her fingers burning against his frigid skin with such heat that he imagined they would leave scars.
He knew he should fight it, but his control over his craft was evaporating as quickly as his control over his hormones, and he sank beneath the waves of power, his hand sliding up her calf and pausing at the bend of her knee as he broke the kiss momentarily to get a better angle. Her green eyes had a tinge of liquid fire in their depths when she opened them to look at him, her halo of loose, ginger hair trembling against her cheeks as she breathed. She looked like a goddess—not the quiet, tentative girl she usually was—and his control slipped even further away.
Pulling her the rest of the way into his seat, his hand still hooked behind her knee, he claimed her lips again briefly before trailing kisses down her slender neck, the wind still thundering in his ears. His hand slowly traced a path up the back of her thigh, his other hand still caught in the folds of her skirt, searching for more skin. She moaned breathlessly, her face buried in his hair as she pushed herself up on her knees, pressing her body against him when his hand reached the curve of her hip. His eyes fluttered open, lips pausing against the hollow of her collarbone when he realized that his hand had reached her hip without feeling an undergarment along the way.
He barely had time to ponder this fact, though, before reality suddenly came crashing down around him. His heart was pounding so hard he felt as if his chest would break in two and his breath was so loud in his ears that he could barely hear the sound of his phone ringing obnoxiously into the heated quiet of the car. What the hell am I doing? Pushing Robin away from him sharply, he fought his craft back into submission, surprised when it obeyed him more easily than he had expected. His high contrast, heightened sense of the world around him dulled slowly, and he watched sadly as Robin turned back into the slim, pale girl she usually was instead of the blazing goddess he had seen a few moments before. Her bright green eyes blinked at him in confusion, her lips still red from being kissed so vigorously and her cheeks flushed a dark rose. Staring at her as he struggled to catch his breath, he fought the temptation to throw the phone out the window and into the lake.
Finding his phone in the cup holder beneath one of her knees, he tried to ignore the fact that she hadn't moved and her hand was still somewhere beneath his shirt. "Yes?" he snapped into the phone.
There was a pause before Dante's voice growled, "You sound out of breath."
Amon went cold at the realization that he couldn't deny Dante's implication because the demon hunter would know he was lying. A sickening sensation washed over him as he considered the possibility that Dante had called because he knew what they had been doing—that he had felt it. Anger entering his voice, he asked, "Did you call me for a reason?"
"You do remember why we're here, don't you?" Dante's voice was sharp enough to cut straight to Amon's fear.
"Of course I do—"
"Then why the hell are you raising power here unless you want to get Beatrice's attention!"
Amon swallowed, closing his eyes, still feeling Robin's eyes focused on him and her warm hand against his skin. His body temperature dropped even further, the heat of passion replaced abruptly by a cold knot of fear and the bitter tang of guilt. How had he allowed himself to get so carried away? His irresponsibility was unforgivable. Without a word, he pulled Robin's wrist from beneath his shirt with his free hand and nudged her firmly back toward the passenger seat.
"Are you listening to me, Amon?" Anger dripped from Dante's words, and Amon found himself wishing that Dante hadn't used his real name. Somehow the use of his name made Dante's anger all the more real and acute, akin to the effect of a disapproving mother's use of a child's full name when he was in serious trouble.
"I heard you," Amon sighed, his tone vaguely repentant.
"Then answer me. What the hell were you thinking?"
Turning his head violently, he looked out the window, looking at but not seeing the fading glow of the sunset or the wash of stars just beginning to twinkle into existence in the velvet sky. "I wasn't," he answered simply.
"Yeah," Dante snapped. "So I gathered. I don't know if Beatrice felt your little spectacle of power or not—hopefully she's in the middle of too much power herself at the moment to notice—but we have other problems. Trish was concerned about Doujima and Sakaki because they still haven't made contact. We tried calling them, but neither of them answered, so she decided to scout out the area. She said the entire valley where Beatrice is planning her little shindig is filled with an unnatural fog. I don't know about you, but that's what I'd consider suspicious activity. Doujima and Sakaki would have to be pretty preoccupied not to notice."
Gathering his scattered wits, Amon clenched the phone in his hand. "Send Trish to look for them," he ordered, straightening in his seat. "And contact Michael. We're starting the mission now. We'll meet you at the location in a few minutes."
"Understood," Dante said coldly. "Don't get distracted on the way."
Shutting his phone, Amon started the car and pulled on his seatbelt. He could feel Robin still watching him intently, but he didn't have words for her right now. He reached down to shift the car into drive, but he felt her hand cover his.
"I'm sorry, Amon," she said before he could say a word.
"You have nothing to apologize for," he replied without looking at her, putting the car into gear and gunning it out onto the road. "Do you think Beatrice noticed…us…?" He couldn't finish the sentence, his jaw clenching.
"I don't think so," she whispered faintly.
"Good," he said in relief.
"I should have told Doujima no," she said after an uncomfortable pause.
"I told you that it wasn't your fault, Robin."
"But, Amon, I've never had alcohol before, and it made me feel so strange. I shouldn't have—"
"I shouldn't have given into you," he interrupted. "I'm the one who made the mistake, Robin."
"Amon…" He held his breath as he waited for her to finish, fearing and yearning to hear the words he knew were coming. "I love you."
Without shifting his attention from the road, his hand found hers clenched in her lap and he squeezed it tightly. He couldn't say the words back to her—not right now when his throat was choked with guilt. They would have sounded trite anyway, repeated back as if they were nothing more than obligatory. And he knew that she could feel his emotions even without a verbal announcement of them, so he simply clutched her hand and struggled to clear his mind. He had lost control too many times in one day and he refused to let it happen again until Beatrice was no longer a threat.
Towel: Anyone read the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy? According to this book, a towel is one of the most precious possessions of a hitchhiker. I don't know how Dante knows this, but I couldn't help making the reference. :)
Ouendan: Translates as "cheer squad." Sakaki is referring to a freaking awesome Nintendo DS game in this scene in which you help various people in difficult situations by hitting places on the screen in time to the music. This helps the ouendan stay on beat and continue cheering. It's so much fun and has such awesome music, but unfortunately it's only in Japanese. But, they are making a sequel for the US, so keep your eyes peeled.
This reference is rather obscure, but I thought of it when I was writing so I thought I'd share. I couldn't help but think of a scene from Alias in which Syd throws her phone into the ocean (it repeats later on in a flashback dream sequence which is awesome) and after she does it, Vaughn comments, "You just threw your phone in the Pacific….twice."
The title of this chapter refers to the song by Beck. With all the make out scenes in this chapter, I couldn't help thinking about it because of the line from it that always sticks in my mind: "Let's make it out, baby." I had a really hard time coming up with a title for this one, and I'm still not completely satisfied, but oh well…
Oh, and if you didn't catch it, the first scene takes place in Penguin Park, a location that shows up several times in Card Captor Sakura. I like that Touya notices that Dante and Trish aren't human—he's got powers of his own, you see…
So, I hope people enjoyed it. I know some of you have been waiting a VERY long time for more Amon x Robin stuff, so I hope it satisfied your craving for a little while, at least. (Oh, and eek! Robin goes commando! Who knew? Come on, she does sleep in the nude, after all…)
I didn't get to the real action yet, but after I started writing I realized that I still had some things that needed to get written before we got to the action anyway…and this just felt like a natural break. I've got at least part of the next chapter written though, so hopefully it won't be too long!
Also, to anyone who's interested, I changed the website link on my profile page from my website to my blog since I update it much more often—like, at all… Check it out if you're bored. ;)
One last thing, thank you to everyone who reviewed recently. I will respond to all the reviews I haven't responded to yet, but I've kind of fallen behind on that lately. Sorry!
