Disclaimer: I, as always, have nothing but bills, a broken car, and some less than legal music, software, and anime.

A/N: I have the wicked urge to slap the idiots who changed 's editing rules. No more asterisk ? And no more double backslash. Ugh. Sorry about the (horrid) delay as well. My car needs wicked repairs, we're short handed at work, my best friend moved, I'm trying to secure my loans for next semester, and did I mention my car senses whenever I have a little surplus of money and breaks correspondingly? It's a little bit stressful. My world is constantly crumbling around me. At the moment I am without a car. Without money. With tons of schoolwork and a cold I just can't shake. Ah well. Enjoy the update. Feel free to harass the hell out of me on AIM and ICQ for more chapters. All loves.

Meant to Live

by ShiroKitsune

Chapter 8 : MANDARIN BOON

It appeared as though Robin and Amon were making a habit of standing tired, confused, and wary in the home of a complete stranger who they were supposed to trust to protect and hide them. This time, however, there was due cause for their stress and wariness. Though no bullet had managed to pierce either one's flesh during their frantic escape from the train, the bullets had done well nigh irreparable damage to their nerves. Robin trembled in exhaustion beside Amon. Her entire body felt raw and aching. The flight had not been easy for her. Her hands and feet bore the markings of her difficulties.

They were only made to stand for a moment before their newest contact, Mandarin, forced them both down on a cushy cream sofa and began barking out orders in Chinese to a pair of sulky looking brothers. The pair rolled their eyes and shuffled out of the room.

"I am pleased to meet you. Zakuro was quite concerned over the trouble you encountered. I am Mandarin," the small man spoke with only the faintest hint of an accent and extended his hand toward the pair. After a few moments of unresponsiveness, he retracted his hand and shrugged. "I had heard that you came from Europe."

"Yes," Robin replied. "I am from Italy. Robin Sena." She held out her hand to Mandarin. He took it gently and brought it to his lips.

"I have noticed that you Europeans are a more - warm- people. Especially the Italians." He smiled at her soft innocent blush. "And you, sir?" Mandarin turned smoothly to Robin's sullen partner.

"Amon," came the reply, crisp and clipped.

"You are not European," Mandarin said. "I had thought that you both were European. You have a western air to you. Perhaps you do business there?"

Amon's eye darted to Robin's face for a moment. Her head was down, her hair obscuring her features. "On occasion," Amon admitted.

"I enjoy quite a few of the European customs. They certainly sleep very comfortably and I am terribly fond of Italian cuisine."

"How safe is this location," Amon asked abruptly.

"Quite safe," Mandarin sighed. "In fact, this is, other than 'Dulcis Domus,' the safest location in Japan."

"Dulcis Domus?"

"Ah, Zakuro's home. It means 'Sweet Home'. It is now, at least, a name which is spoken quite 'tongue in cheek'. Dulcis Domus, and my own place 'Chaang Mung' are the two safest places you could possibly hide."

"Chaang Mung?"

"Ah, it means 'Orange Dream'. We all named our estates."

"So you could refer to them in code?"

"...Yes."

"Is that so?" There was a heavy silence over the room after Amon spoke with his disbelief plainly writ in his tone. It seemed, to him, that there would not be a need for such extravagant naming for something so simple as a code. The silence wound around the room, seeming to muffle the melodic ticking of the bamboo wall clock over the door. Mandarin shook his head as though to clear it.

"No. We named them so that we had identity. So that we had some sign, some proof, that even though we are fugitives and criminals to some, we are a family, with morals, and we have as much right to exist peacefully as anyone else. We will not stand for the wrongful persecution of the innocent. We deserve, as much as anyone else, to have happiness." His eyes had grown distant as he voiced his opinion. His gaze shifted slowly to a wicker table under a bay window on the far side of the room. Resting comfortably on the shining lacquered top were a dozen or so photographs in a jumble of frames. He recognized his brother in a few shots, as well as Zakuro and Mandarin, and there were two others, a man and a woman who were unfamiliar.

The man appeared half Asian and half European. He had the clean smooth features and soft androgyny that spoke of his Asian ancestry but with a sharper profile, brow, and muscles of an European. His eyes were a curious mix as well. They were only slightly slanted and were a rich chocolate brown. His hair was long and dark, nearly black, the ends cut straight across. And in every picture he was in with Zakuro, he stood beside or behind her with his arms wrapped around her. Both had smiles on their faces and her eyes were a clear blue.

This building, this network, they were all a gift... a gift from my friend, the witch.

The woman was a small soft bodied Korean woman with a rosebud mouth and large, warm and droopy eyes. Her hair and clothes were immaculate and her teeth were even and white. There was not hint of meanness or pettiness to her. She too was smiling in every shot and stood always beside Mandarin. Although the two did not touch, as Zakuro and the other man, they stood oriented toward one another in an obvious show of togetherness.

Mandarin noted Amon looking at the photos and stood up quickly.

"I apologize. You have had a long night and must be tired. I will show you to your rooms," Mandarin said with a weak smile.

"Is that-"Amon began to ask but was cut off sharply.

"I have two guest rooms for you. They share a bathroom between them. There should be clothes in both rooms as well as toiletries in the bathroom. Come with me." The old man's voice was commanding and firm. There would be no explanations for the pictures forthcoming. Amon shrugged one shoulder and turned to his silent partner. She was sleeping on the sofa, still upright, in a position that appeared nearly impossible and impossibly painful. Mandarin turned to look at the sleeping girl as well.

"Ah, I shall have Lao take her to her room. I suppose our little briefing could have waited." Mandarin turned to the slightly ajar door to the hallway. "La-"

"Don't bother," Amon's voiced stopped him. Mandarin turned to see the dark, brooding man cradling the sleeping girl in his arms. There was no change in his expression, nor in his voice; but in his stance, and his gentle hold, his care was laid bare. It seemed, to Mandarin, a sight oddly familiar, though he could not place his finger upon the reason.

"Sir," one of the brother's entered the room and broke the pensive quiet. "Did you call?"

"Jun. I was going to call for Lao. Could you take their things to the Orange rooms."

"Are you putting the girl in... her room?"

"Yes."

"Am I to expect any more guests tonight?"

"No."

"And what if she comes?"

"She won't be coming tonight. Now take their things up to the rooms. This is not open for discussion," Mandarin said.

"There is another set of connecting rooms on the west side of the house. Perhaps you would rather I placed-"

"No," Mandarin snapped impatiently. "That's enough. Take their bags up to the Orange rooms, then meet me in the kitchen. We need to have a talk."

Jun bowed stiffly and snatched up the pair's bags. "This way," he snapped. Amon followed with calculating eyes. Just before they crossed the threshold out of the room, Mandarin called out to him.

"I will send someone up with breakfast around ten. I have some business to attend to so feel free to wander the grounds at your leisure." Amon nodded and his eyes were still half lidded and calculating. "Chaang Mung is quite safe and you have nothing to fear here." Amon huffed lightly and walked out the door briskly to catch up to Jun.

Damn Nagira. What have you gotten me into?

At precisely 10 am there was a sharp knock on the door of Amon's room. He sat up abruptly and with eyes unclouded by sleep.

"Yes," Amon said simply as his permission to enter. His voice was slightly rough with sleep and he startled himself for a moment by the sound. The door opened smoothly followed by a large tray of food and following the tray, one of the two brothers from the night before, although Amon could not recall which one. The young man glided into the room and set the tray gently on the small dining table near the door.

"I apologize. I did not mean to wake you," the brother said with his back half turned on the hunter.

"I was reading," Amon lied, his mind still fuzzy from sleep. He decided long ago that waking up in the morning was a far more trying task than any witch he had ever to hunt. The young man cast an almost careless glance at the hunter and Amon felt his muscles tense.

"Hm," the boy said and began to unload some of the contents of the tray. The boy made Amon nervous. He was certain that the boy saw that no book was anywhere in site.

"We were unable, I believe, to introduce formally last night. You met my brother Jun, I am Lao."

Lao's movements were purposefully loose and unthreatening.

"I certainly would have rested after an evening like that," Lao continued conversationally. "I am sure Miss Robin is still asleep. Her room was quite quiet as I passed. I doubt she would even be up reading."

"Observant of you," Amon said coldly. Lao smiled again disarmingly.

"Ah, well, it is how I was trained." Lao bowed respectfully. "I apologize for cutting our conversation short but I must take breakfast over to Miss Robin as well. I am afraid I will have to wake her. I hope her sleep was pleasant enough." He began to lift his tray in his arms. Amon wondered if he could be trusted around Robin. Could this boy be a danger with his warrior's grace.

Amon kicked the damp terrycloth and cursed Robin leaving a towel on the floor until he looked up and saw her bare shoulders above the sheets.

She slept naked.

Amon started from his bed and caught Lao's arm before he left the room.

"Leave her breakfast here," he said. "I'll take it in to her. Don't go into her room." Lao looked at him, startled then nodded his head.

"Ah," Lao said. "I see. My apologies. I shall not enter the lady's room." Lao nodded again. "I meant no disrespect. I shall come back for the tray later then." Lao slipped quickly from the room and moved down the hall.

Amon pressed two cool fingers to his brow and frowned. He walked to Robin's door and rapped sharply three times. "Robin," he called, certain of her attention, "I will be back in five minutes with breakfast. Be ready."

He turned and walked back to his room to dress for the day. He could hear, through the wall, the fumbling of Robin's attempts to do the same. It was something, impolite, to spur the half formed images in his mind of sheets sliding off skin. The caress of hair over shoulders as one leans forward to dress.

Amon shook his head. He still had 2.34 minutes of rebellious thoughts before he fully awoke. He decided, he would need to pick up an alarm clock.

A/N: Okay. I wanted to hurry and finish this one for you guys. Once again, I am so (trust me) sorry about the wait. My world is in shambles right now. Just harass me for more. And forgive me my impertinence. I promise Omake Theatre in the next chapter. All Loves.