A/N: You can't see me, but I am glaring daggers at right now for removing all of my formatting and special characters. At least it's leaving in my italics right now, or at least it was last time I checked. If not, let me know. I'll scream and rant, and then I'll fix it. AGAIN. x glare x.
No major changes to this one, except for Robin's poem.
Don't sue me. I own nothing and am too broke to pay, anyway.
HEART'S DESIRE
Chapter Six: Computer Work
A Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fic
By Yuriko Tsukino
Job is a good thing, Robin reminded herself for the thousandth time. Jobs mean that I don't go hungry. It means that I have money for food, rent, electricity, and water, she thought firmly. But as she stood there, inspecting herself in the mirror, it didn't feel like a good thing.
While she knew she should be grateful for the allowances that Mr. Kobari had given her, she still felt uncomfortable in the uniform--tight jeans she had practically been poured into, strappy heels, and a halter top that barely covered anything. At least compared to her normal, long black dress.
Which she was missing dearly at the moment.
"Are you done in there yet?" came a perturbed voice from the other side of the door.
Robin groaned inwardly. The other drawback to this job was that she had to work with Doujima of all people. Under the strictest of secrecy, of course. Doujima, being the rich little Daddy's girl that she was, did not want anyone to know that she held a minimum wage job.
"I'm only here because Daddy made me, alright?" she had said, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. "He got this idea that having a job would make me more responsible with my money."
Robin forced herself to look away from the mirror, and instead tried to concentrate on not cringing as she opened the dressing room door. Doujima stood there in her uniform--the "full" uniform, and not the adapted one Robin wore. It covered so little Robin felt ashamed just looking at her. The same halter top, only shorter. A skirt so short she hoped Doujima didn't have to bend down. And strappy sandles like Robin's, only with a much higher heel. How does she walk in those? Robin wondered as Doujima led her over to the bar.
"So this is how it works," Doujima began. "The customers seat themselves, so that's one thing you don't have to worry about." She handed Robin a pen and a small pad of paper. "You take their orders, turn them in to Kobari. He takes care of drinks and food. He puts out the orders with the slip they go with, and you take them out. When they're done, you figure up a bill--price list is over there, by the way--and then you take their money, clean up the table, blah blah blah. Got it?"
"I think so."
"Good. There's your first customer."
Startled, Robin turned. Sitting alone at a table by the window was Nagira, wearing his horrid fur coat again and reading the paper.
Somewhat relieved that it was at least someone she was familiar with (and not someone from school) Robin went over to the table.
"Are you ready to order?" she asked.
Nagira looked up. "Robin! I didn't know you were working here."
"I just started," Robin replied.
"Ah." Nagira glanced at the menu before him. "How about you bring me a special? With a beer."
"Yes sir," Robin answered, scrawling down the order as she went back to the bar.
Doujima was just leaving the kitchen. Suddenly, she whirled around, practically diving into the back room.
What was that about? Robin wondered, pushing open the swinging doors. Just as she stepped into the kitchen, a hand clamped over her mouth, dragging her away from the entry.
"Doujima! What was that for?"
"Look, you're going to have to take over for a while," she said.
"Why?" Robin demanded.
"Because." Doujima grabbed her arm and drug her to the circular window that gave a view of the dinning room. "See those kids that just sat down in the corner?" Robin nodded. They were vaguely familiar. "Those guys go to our school. Therefore, they are not to know I work here. So you are taking over for me."
Robin bit back a retort. I suppose I should think of the extra tips I'll be getting,
she thought. "What will you be doing if I'm taking over for you?"
Doujima gave her a coy grin as she swaggered off to the cloak room in the back. "Well, they'll probably take a while, so it's best if I get out here. Maybe do a little shopping," she said with a wink. "Later Robin." And with that, Doujima slipped out the back door.
"Don't mind her," the manager said. Robin jumped. She hadn't seen him behind the giant stainless-steel appliances and shelves that covered the meager floor space of the kitchen.
"I'm sorry, sir," Robin said. "I--"
"Don't worry about it," he replied good naturedly. "Doujima does things like that all the time." He smiled. "Now you know why I didn't turn down the extra help."
00000
By the end of the night, Robin could certainly see why. She had never been so exhausted in her life. Her feet ached, her back was tired, and she was all around worn out from all of the trips between the kitchen and the dinning room.
But it was worth it, she thought that night as she sat on the edge of her bed, counting out her tips. The wad of bills was never more welcome looking.
She tucked a portion into her purse for food, and the rest she put aside in a jar on a
shelf.
Hopefully this will last for a while, she thought as she turned out the light.
She lay down, and fell asleep almost instantly.
00000
BEEEEP! BEEEP! BEEEEP!
"Shut up..."
BEEEEP! BEEEP! BEEEEP!
Robin groaned, rolling over in bed. Something sharp poked into her stomach.
"Ouch," she mumbled numbly into her pillow.
Unfortunately, the alarm clock didn't heed her mental wishes, and Robin was forced to shut it off by hand.
As she sat up, she figured out what the sharp thing in her bed was. She vaguely remembered waking in the middle of the night, a poem flowing though her head. Completely dazed, she had retrieved her notebook from the kitchen and scrawled it down in a stupor.
As she pulled on her black dress, she looked over the stanzas, reviewing what her brain had come up with while in the dark catacombs of sleep.
To her surprise, the poem didn't sound half bad. It would need to be rewritten for legibility sake, but otherwise it was good.
Glancing at the clock, she shoved her notebook in her bag and took off for the door. As she opened the gate to the street, her heart nearly stopped.
"Morning!" Michael called from the end of the block.
He had seen which building she had come from. She knew it. He was going to ask--
"Hey, you better hurry up or you'll be late," he said, coming nearer.
"Oh...yes," Robin replied, and jogged to catch up with him, half hoping that if she distanced herself from the place then he wouldn't associate her with it.
00000
Michael decided to pretend he hadn't seen her leave the building. That they had just randomly met on the street. That he hadn't been so overwhelmed with curiosity that he had hacked into the school files and found her address.
Why is she so secretive? he wondered as he led the way to the school. The neighborhood was perfectly respectable--maybe even a little nicer than his own. Yet she didn't talk about her home life, and wouldn't let him even know where she lived. Was she ashamed of her family? Did they embarrass her? But that didn't seem like Robin. She wasn't that shallow.
So what was it?
He contemplated this the entire walk, until they entered Mr. Amon's class for first period.
"Hey, Robin," he said as they took their seats, "Do you want to go to the movies tonight? There's a new one out based on one of those British novels you like to read. It sounds pretty good."
"I wish I could, but I have to work," Robin replied as she sorted out the notebooks and pens she would need for the class.
"When did you get a job?" Michael asked, had frozen inches from the power button of his laptop. How could she not have told him? But then, part of his brain chided, When does she tell me anything?
"Last night."
"Oh." Michael's hand realized it was floating in space, and completed its course to the little round button. "Maybe this weekend then?"
Robin shook her head. "I really the money; I'm going to be working every day."
Michael opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Something wasn't adding up. How could she be hurting for money in that neighborhood?
Stop jumping to conclusions, the rational part of his brain ordered. He tried to
focus on opening his word processing program so he could take notes. Maybe she's just saving for something. And she's with a host family, right? Maybe she's just trying to take some of the burden off of them.
But as his gaze slid involuntarily over to the girl next to him, he couldn't help but
notice the state of her clothing, or the way her normally slim face was now so thin.
And he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something important Robin wasn't telling him.
00000
This is ridiculous, Amon thought as he poured over Robin's records for the thousandth time. True to his word, he had returned the originals, and was using copies he had made during his lunch break to try to glean more information about Robin.
One part of his mind argued that if he did get caught, he could just say that he was doing the research Zaizen had ordered him to do.
But the other part (the one that was annoyingly always right) said that Zaizen would chew him out for reading information that they already had and not getting out there to discover more.
Besides, I don't think he'd believe me anyway, Amon thought. I don't know how, but he always knows when someone is lying to him.
Frustrated, Amon filed the papers and put them back in the locked drawer of his desk. At least they would be safe in there.
He didn't have much choice. There weren't any disjointed pieces in her records for him to put together. He would have to follow her. Get an idea of her personal life and find out just what it was that made her so different. Hopefully it wouldn't take to long. But, judging by the way she seemed reluctant to talk to even her closest friend (if an ex-tormenter could even be called such), it was going to take a lot longer than Zaizen would want.
That must be why he paid off the football players, Amon realized. He tried to force her to repeat whatever it is she's been doing.
It occurred to him that reviewing the security tape the locker incident might be useful. The question was, how to get to it. There were too many people in the office (like Zaizen) that could see him if he stole the disk the surveillance was kept on. Not to mention the fact that the cameras ran twenty-four hours a day; he would throw off the archiving and therefore give away the fact he had been there.
However, he also knew that Zaizen could view surveillance tapes whenever he wanted on his computer; he had done it numerous times in discipline cases. So that meant that either his computer was hooked up directly, or the cameras were on the school network somewhere.
I'm going to have to hope it's the later, he thought. There's no way I'd be able to get into Zaizen's office.
Time to call in a favor.
00000
"Michael. I need to talk to you," Amon said.
"Er--What for?" Michael asked. He had the distinct--and slightly disturbing--feeling that Mr. Amon had been waiting for him there outside the school gates.
"You have a wireless card for you laptop, correct?"
"Yes sir." Sweat began to bead on his forehead. The look Mr. Amon was giving him was giving him the creeps.
"I need to use it. And your hacking skills."
"Hacking...skills?" Michael swallowed hard.
Amon grinned, if the twist of his mouth could be called such. "Yes. Your hacking skills. I'm assuming that is how your grade went from a fifty-two percent to an eighty-two percent overnight."
Michael tried very hard not to swallow his tongue. I knew I shouldn't have gone that high!
"Let me put it this way," Mr. Amon said. "You help me with this, and I consider it the extra credit assignment that gave you those extra thirty points." Amon raised a suggestive eyebrow, then turned and walked away, leaving his student gaping like a fish.
00000
I can't believe I'm doing this, Michael thought, tapping away furiously on his
computer. And I can't believe a teacher is blackmailing me into it!
"I found it," he said as the screen popped up. Through it, he could access any of the cameras in the school and all of their archives.
"Good," Amon said, leaning over his shoulder. "Find the one for the second floor language hallway."
Michael did as he was told, and another window appeared, displaying what was happening in the hall at that instant. Amon instructed him to copy and download all of the surveillance for the Monday before onto a disk, which he then transferred to his own computer.
"Thank you Michael," he said, focusing on the monitor before him. "That is all I
needed."
"So...I'm not in trouble anymore, right?" Michael asked, packing up his cables and lap-top.
"No."
Michael sighed in relief, shouldering his bag as he prepared to leave.
"But I may need your help again. And if I ever catch you tampering with grades again, you will be suspended. If you're lucky."
"Yes sir..."
00000
"Hey Robin! Aren't you eating in the cafeteria?" Michael asked, stowing his bag on one of the orange plastic chairs.
"No. I'm going to the library," Robin replied. "I want to type some stuff out."
"You know, you could just--"
But she was all ready gone.
"--use my laptop."
Plunking down in his chair, Michael stared in defeat at the glob of brown goo posing as meatloaf on his tray as though it could tell him why Robin seemed to avoid him while at the same time she spent more time with him than any other person in the school.
00000
Robin picked a computer in the back corner of the library and signed her name on the login sheet. She pulled up a word processing program, popping a floppy dick into the slot. She got out her poetry notebook and began to type. She kept one poem per page, her words showing up in neat, roman type on the screen. She entered them chronologically, checking each one meticulously for spelling errors. Near the end of the lunch period, she got started on her latest poem, the one that had woken her up in the middle of the night.
It's like I'll disappear as soon as I close my eyes
I feel like I've turned into someone that even I don't recognize
Sadly, I've become so small I want to be rescued,
But instead of sighing I vomited up my loneliness,
And just lay there, measuring it all up
Amidst this drop of time gone dry
My heart is drowning and writhing
These lies that make me dizzy I took them and tore them up
And with that, I became lost In a world of thin darkness.
For the sake of those whom I should trust
I chose to come here, a cage into which I've locked myself,
And now there's no escape.
Deep inside my parched throat
Lies the reason for this growing impermanence
Scared of the approaching tomorrow I cower and collapse
But it seeks me out and whispers to me
This voice of thin darkness.
Amidst this drop of time gone dry
My heart is drowning and writhing
These lies that make me dizzy
I took them and tore them up
And with that, I became lost In a world of thin darkness.
As she finished the last line, Robin pressed one of her cold hands to her forehead and tried to stop her face from turning even redder. For some reason this poem made her think of Amon. She couldn't figure out why. But it did. And it made her blush for some reason. Which was why she wanted this computer. In the back. Away from everyone, with her back to the world where no one could see her face or what she was typing.
Robin saved the file to the disk, typing a random word into the "file name" block. As the bell rang, she hurried down the hall to her French class, shoving the disk into her pocket roughly.
00000
Amon rewound the sequence again, zooming in on the sleeve of one of Robin's attackers. After an hour of reviewing the material, he still couldn't figure out how the fires were starting---Or how they were suddenly stopping.
They're not really fires, he reasoned, trying to find some kind of explanation. Just smoldering. Could the wind generated by movement be putting them out?
He shook his head, rejecting his own suggestion. That didn't fit. They were
extinguished rapidly--almost as soon as they started. It was something else.
He zoomed back out, rubbing his eyes, ready to give up for the night. All of this
staring at screens was giving him a headache.
Once more, he thought, resetting the timer. This time he focused on Robins terrified face. What are you hiding from me? he wondered, watching as her fear widened eyes flamed.
Wait.
That wasn't the proverbial spark of passion. It wasn't the light catching. There was a literal flame in Robins eyes.
He backed up the sequence, zooming in closer. There was no mistake. He went back to 100 view, watching as Robin's eyes flamed a millisecond before the sleeve of her attackers coat began to smoke.
Amon fell back in his chair. So Zaizen was right, he thought. She was behind it.
But as he watched her being shoved into the locker, he knew with certainty that all of the attacks were provoked. She had never set out to hurt anyone.
The boys on the screen slammed shut the locker, jamming a Bic pen into the slot normally reserved for a combination lock. Not very bright of them, but Amon suspected that they thought they were supposed to scare her, not endanger her life.
The class phone behind his desk rang, displaying the number for Zaizen's office.
Amon's stomach knotted painfully. He had a feeling Robin's danger wasn't even close to being over.
00000
A/N: For those of you that don't know, the poem that appeared in this chapter is the opening theme song to WHR, Shell, by BANA. And if you have seen that opening, then you know why Robin would be blushing. And if you haven't, that song rocks and you must see the opening at some point.
And it obviously doesn't belong to me.
