Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Yes. I own everything. Even your minds. Now, buy me a flatbed scanner! ……… Okay. Maybe I don't own everything.

Meant to Live

by ShiroKitsune

To Readers: I love hidden imagery. And decided to hide a humorous metaphor within this chapter. I'll give you a hint as to where it is. You'll find it within the last five paragraphs. See if you can find it. I'll tell you next chapter what it was.

Chapter 3 : Finally Figured Things Out

It was with no small amount of trepidation that Amon entered the room which he was to spend the night sharing with his partner. He had been lifted in the air and twisted about, shot several times, thrown against many walls, and he had managed to escape a collapsing building relatively unharmed and unshaken. And yet, somehow, the thought of sharing a room with Robin was causing him undue amounts of stress.

// It's just nerves from what happened at the Factory. //

Amon paused at the top of the stairs and commanded his muscles into still submission. The muscles locked and transmitted painfully the steady pulsing of blood through his veins. rigor mortis set in and he dimly wondered when he had died. He remembered earlier, his heart, his breath had stopped. Then he had felt her heartbeat and she had breathed into him.

// It's just stress from the Factory. //

His hand fell smoothly upon the precise metal doorknob. Even parallel lines and perfect 90 degree angles. Inch thick metal and an impressive dead-bolt. All useless unless each piece works together against intruders. Impossibly disciplined and functional but only on certain conditions. If the hinges are too weak, if the frame is unbalanced, or even if the wall cannot support the weight, then the door will fail.

The door would lie like a discarded tin soldier on a child's floor.

Amon twisted the handle and opened the unlocked door. The door saluted and with a click of well made heels, shut behind him.

She stood, crisply, before him with her eyes cataloging the room. Each shade of gray, each bare wall with crackled elephant hide plaster, and each fluttering shadow was caught within her eyes and incinerated. Her eyes skipped over the mirror, refusing it. Her eyes were her only mirrors now.

// Reflect faithfully with thine eyes and thou wilt see thyself reflected faithfully back. //

Thoughts that came not from her own mind sparked their invasion in her eyes. She stepped forward into the gray haze with easy melancholy familiarity. The room was as she had left it. She lay her bag lightly on the floor then proceeded to stretch her arms sinuously above her head. Each muscle expanded and contracted with flawless precision. She rolled her head and her unbound hair caressed her shoulders. Amon watched the lines of her body in her rolling fluidity with a desperate confusion. Each caress of her hair over her shoulder shone radiant in the dim light of the cell.

// An the bitter cold had stolen the will of him. The robin descended and impressed the hope of spring upon the frozen. Each word the robin spoke was one of power, renewal, and hope. The robin forbore the spring. //

Amon shook his head and squeezed his eyes closed. The last few days of running and hiding were beginning to take their toll. He rubbed kaleidoscopes into his eyes and prayed that Nagira would send up the couch soon. The soft scent of orange and ginger filled his senses and a moment later he could feel a silken and timid hand rest on his shoulder.

"Amon," Robin said. "I think you should rest. You haven't slept much lately." He opened his eyes and looked down at her. "The bed is up there," she continued and took her hand from his shoulder to gesture to the loft bed.

"You have slept less than I," he pointed out sharply. The scent of orange faded slightly as she shifted to her back foot. Her eyes searched his, pleading, what? He didn't know.

"I am not tired yet," she said. With a kind of dismissive finality she sat on the floor with her back against a column and pulled her bag to her. The nylon made a dry 'skritch' as it was drug across the concrete. Her hands reached into the bag and a look of concentration covered her face. Her tongue poked shyly out from her lips until her hands alighted on the object of their hunt.

It was a book that looked as though it had not only seen better days, but had seen better years. It was wrapped in dingy burgundy cloth with a cracked leather strap binding it closed. Some of the pages were rippled with water damage. But her hands ran over it reverently as though it were made of solid gold and studded with the most precious jewels. Gently, she brushed the strap off and cracked the book open to the first dog-eared page. Amon peered down with the expectation to perhaps see bible verses, or words of any sort. Instead he was taken aback to see the most hauntingly detailed image he was ever to lay eyes upon.

At the center of the picture was a man kneeling tiredly in the snow. His clothes were rough and his feet were unshod. He carried no weapon and no supplies. His body was pulled in on itself trying to preserve what meager warmth it could. Yet, his face was lifted and upon it was an expression wholly out of place. He was looking up with pure adoration at the woman before him. She stood on top of the snow, unbowed by the cold with her long golden hair and dress mixing in the wind. One slim hand was extended toward him with the palm facing upwards. The copse of trees among which they stood seemed to bend protectively over the pair. As he gazed up at her with hope and adoration, a small half smile graced her lips.

Robin gazed at the picture with a look of total contentment. Her breaths became deeper and her eyes began to droop.

"Robin." Her head lifted sharply and confused eyes sought the source of the interruption. Amon stood with his back half turned towards her and his eyes completely hidden behind the curtain of his hair. "Go to bed," he insisted. She shook her head and turned back to her book. With one swift hand she flipped the page and began to read the passages written on the yellowed paper. Amon scowled and settled himself down on the floor. So they passed the rest of the afternoon in a sullen and rather juvenile sulky silence.

***

Sometime around seven, Nagira barged into the room and hauled the stubborn pair downstairs for dinner. Dinner was a quiet affair with only light conversation. Once the three were finished, Robin stayed to talk with Nagira while Amon returned to the room to take a bath. The conversation between Nagira and Robin was light and mostly revolved around people she had met when she had been first hiding out. The conversation had begun to lapse into long silences when Amon reappeared. He entered the room in dark navy pajama pants and a towel draped over his shoulders. His hair tangled wetly and drops of water hung from lashes over half lidded eyes.

"What? Did you run out of bubble bath?" Nagira lifted an eyebrow and smirked. Amon passed him without so much as a second look. He walked over to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of milk. Robin looked at Nagira questioningly and he smiled in response.

"He's like that after a bath," Nagira shrugged. Amon finished his glass of milk then stumbled upstairs. Robin's face registered only surprise and wonder. Nagira laughed at her expression and wiped a hand over his eyes. Within moments her own voice rang out with laughter. She pushed her chair back then stood with one hand shyly covering her mouth.

"Good night, Nagira." She said and began to exit.

"'Night little Robin," Nagira replied. "Sleep well." He listened to her footsteps fading as she ascended the stairs.

"Tomorrow's going to be a very difficult one." Nagira murmured to himself. "I hope you and Amon are up to it."

***

Amon knelt in a meadow beside a stream brimming with cool runoff from the newly melting snow. The air was crisp but the sun shed its warmth freely upon the land. The sound of birds in the new morning filling the air around him played a counterpoint to the euphony of the water. The grass was cool and soft beneath his fingers. With a contented smile he laced his hands behind his head and lay fully down. The clouds shifted overhead in an ever moving slide-show of images. He watched entranced for long minutes before the blinking of his eyes slowed to a stop. With the halting of his vision the music of the stream coursed strongly through his head. Yet the song had changed, slightly, almost imperceptibly. Amon rolled onto his side facing the stream and opened his eyes. He blinked rapidly at the sight before him. A girl, dressed only in her skin, stood waist deep in the stream with her back to him. Her hair clung lovingly to her skin. He stared unable to turn his eyes away. The girl looked coyly back over her shoulder and smiled at him. In her eyes, darker than the vents of the ocean, he was struck blind. Darkness engulfed him and all he could hear was the soft lapping of the water.

Splash….

He couldn't tell when the blackness of his dream became the darkness of the room. He simply returned to himself, lying on the couch, in the dark dead of the night. It had been a dream.

Splash…

He tensed at the sound and blinked rapidly in a desperate attempt to force his eyes to adjust to the muted moonlight. Shapes began to appear. Columns and walls. He lifted himself slowly off the couch and cast his eyes about the room.

Splash…Another whisper in the darkness.

Creak…The sofa sounded as Amon sat up.

Then, a soft gasp and a tremulous voice.

"A-Amon?"

"Robin? What are you doing?"

"I, I wanted to get a bath. But I didn't want to disturb you. So, I, waited. Until you were asleep. I'm sorry." Amon shook his head and ducked back down on the couch. A strange unusual heat covered his face.

"It's okay…." Amon groped for something to say. Why couldn't he think of anything to say? It was, an unusual situation, but, why get so…. "Good night." Amon stated finally and tried desperately to ignore the soft presence of his partner bathing less than a dozen feet away from him.

All he could see was the smile of the girl in the stream and the perfect warmth of the spring day.

Splash…

Rivulets of water tracing their way down.

***

Amon stood uneasily near the door while his brother gathered together the packet of information that was his and Robin's new life. He shuffled his foot lightly over the shaggy carpet beneath his feet. Nagira strode rapidly around the room, giving orders to the movers and gathering together the paperwork for Amon. Nagira was moving out himself, to another building, with less exposure. The movers bustled around lifting furniture. One stopped in front of Amon and looked at him expectantly and somewhat nervously.

"What?" Amon asked coldly. The mover shifted back slightly.

"Amon," Robin's voice, impossible soft broke in. "I think he needs that rug." Amon stepped back and the mover darted to pull up the rug. He rolled it neatly under one arm and stole away. Amon shifted beside Robin with a confused energy. Her hand burned as it brushed his arm and he stepped quickly away. She paused for a moment, hesitant, then turned sadly away to wait by the door. She wrapped her arms around herself and stood with her head bowed.

// I wish I knew who you were. The rules you live by. If I could only figure you out. //

The room buzzed with energy. Movers hauling boxes and furniture in an obscene dance of efficiency. Amon and Nagira arguing about something, nothing, anything.

But in her eyes all was static except for the fluttering hem of her skirt as it snapped at her ankles. Her fingers troubled her hair. Braid. Un-braid. Twist. Untwist. Like some kind of pendulum rhythm. Two opposites locked together in balance.

"Let's go," Amon spoke at her side, startling her. She looked up for a moment then knelt to pick up her bag. Without a word, he lifted her bag and hung the strap on his own shoulder.

"A-Amon?" she paused, unsure of how to phrase her question. Her teeth sunk nervously into her lower lip. He looked down at her and a ghost of a smile flitted across his face.

"Come," he said and held a hand out to her with the palm facing up. She slipped her own small hand in his and let his strength lift her from the ground. With one last backward look at Nagira and Hanamura, she followed Amon out, her hand loosely clasped in his.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Che, I had to cut this chapter down. There was just too much going on. Plus I'm two days away from production and my costume isn't done and the end of this semester is rapidly drawing nigh. Ah, well. I have a good handle on where this story is headed. Don't worry, there will be a definite increase in Amon x Robin goodness. And lots more symbolism and humor.

All loves to my wonderful reviewers! I can't respond to each one individually but I much appreciate the reviews. They make me warm and tingly…

Ah for the first time I feel the warmth of unconditional love.

* You're sitting under a heating vent. *

Oh, well. That's good too.

All loves!