Control the Storm Collection
Story 4

Title: Destination Departure

Author: Catherine Grissom

Rating: Still T. Though we might be beginning to push M.

Summary: At your most beautiful...Who's going to end it if you cannot make it stop? Can you hang on for today?

Warnings: This is so very not a happy piece.

Disclaimer: I still don't own WHR. Sunrise and Bandai still do. Song belongs to Tristania

A/N: I've been AWOL for a while, and I apologize. I'm also evil, as this piece might show, and I apologize. But I think I might post something more lighthearted separately, so watch out for that. Also, for those of you without a German dictionary, built in or not, 'Seien Sie vorsichtig' roughly translates to 'Take care' and 'Arzt' translates to 'doctor'. Or at least that's what my own, admittedly rusty, grasp of German seems to remember.

Inspired by Tristania's 'Destination Departure'.

He recognized the street: a small avenue in Berlin that housed a tiny but welcoming restaurant where they'd spent many evenings. Cheerful chimes of "Seien Sie vorsichtig!" followed them out and Robin's Italian-accented German laughed back a response.

An elderly voice called out "Und du!" and he felt himself turn. "Feed her!" the grandmotherly woman continued. "Still too skinny!"

He felt an eyebrow raise and heard Robin giggle beside him. The old woman made a shooing gesture and he nodded, guiding his charge out the door.

As they walked back to the apartment, he stole a glance at Robin. She was dressed in jeans and a simple white peasant blouse, her hair was down, and she was smiling. Not one of those secretive, half-smiles that she had when she was peaceful. Not one of the almost-smirks that appeared when she was feeling mischievous either.

Robin was beaming. Combined with the last rays of sunlight glinting off of her hair and skin, it made her look radiant.

He could say, with certainty but never out loud, that she had never looked more beautiful.

Suddenly, she turned to him, dwindling golden rays turning into a halo behind her, and he struggled to look like he hadn't been staring.

"We can stay another week, right?" she asked, although it was more of a statement.

He caught himself nodding and quickly voiced, "But only one more. We should have left already."

Robin's smile dimmed slightly and she said, "I know. Just because there hasn't been an attack doesn't mean there aren't hunters."

He found himself wanting to say something, anything, to bring that smile back to full force, but before he could find the words, she was speaking again.

"So, where are we going next?"

He swallowed. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I was thinking about Tuscany."

And just like that, the beam was back, and the running, the organization didn't matter.

"Really?" near-childish delight colored her voice.

He felt his face settle into a sort of half-smile. "Really."

Robin sprinted out in front of him, spinning around to face him, walking backwards with every bit of confidence she'd had walking forwards. "Home?" she asked, catching his gaze and holding it.

"You shouldn't do that," he chided half-seriously. "You could walk off a cliff."

She laughed then, stubbornly continuing her reverse-walk.

"Yes, ho-"

A loud crack cut off his smiling answer and he saw Robin's eyes widen. He opened his mouth to reassure her, to say that it had probably been a car backfiring, when she bent her head awkwardly to stare at her stomach. Red was beginning to spread and his reassurance died on his lips.

She looked back to him, eyes growing unfocused. "A-" and then she collapsed.

He didn't register that he was moving, only that he was crouched next to her an instant later. "Robin," he called and her head turned to him.

Blood. So much blood. Too much blood.

He swallowed, forced himself to look at the wound. "That's not so bad," he choked out. "You'll be fine."

'Liar,' her lips, almost smiling again, formed the word, but no sound escaped.

Sound. Crack. Gunshot. Where was the second one? Why only one? Why just her?

Why the hell wasn't he screaming for help?

Robin's eyes began to flutter closed.

"No!" he growled, grasping her shoulders, shaking her. "You're not going to die here. I need you to stay with me."

Her eyes stubbornly remained closed, but her lips opened. 'Run.'

"I'm. Not. Leaving." Any sniper worth his salt would have picked him off by now. If he wasn't dead yet, he wasn't going to be.

A rabble of voices pricked his ears. Right. Berlin. Big city. Of course there'd be people.

One voice, probably trying to be calming, was muttering something about "Arzt".

He paid the other man no mind. "Robin," he shook her once more. Her eyelids fluttered, barely. "Robin, stay with me."

Again, she spoke with no sound. 'Sorry.' And then she was still.

Amon woke suddenly. Breathing heavily, he looked around.

Not Berlin. Not Tuscany. Not Tallinn. Helsinki.

"Robin," he managed and was surprised to hear a quiet "Kitchen," in response. Rising, he followed the voice.

Robin was seated at the kitchen's island, staring idly at the paper, as though debating whether it was worth trying to read. As he entered, she turned to him.

"Feeling better?"

Amon nodded and she turned back to the paper. "Good. You didn't look well earlier."

A dream. Of course it had been a damn dream. He should have known, he'd had that one often enough.

He might have considered the dream prophetic if it hadn't started after they'd left Berlin.

"There's coffee," Robin's voice continued. "Though it's cold now. And breakfast." She gestured to the counter by the small stove. Sure enough, there was a plate of food.

Retrieving the plate, he sat across from her.

Robin quirked an eyebrow at him. "You're in my way."

He mirrored her expression.

"I was watching the birds. It looks lovely outside and they've been singing."

Amon studied her for a moment and she placidly stared back. "We could go for a walk, later," he offered.

She looked skeptical. "I figured we'd need to leave."

"We do," he confirmed. "But a walk won't hurt."

Robin beamed at him and for an instant the dream came back. "Really?"

Swallowing, he nodded once.

Her quiet, musical laugh filled the air and she slid off the stool and nearly danced to her room. "I'll get ready. You call Nagira."

Minutes later, Amon had finished his small breakfast and washed and put away his plate and silverware, noting appreciatively that Robin must have done the same with her own.

Deciding that he'd need the caffeine if he was to deal with his energetic brother, he ventured to try the coffee. Cold. Stale. Robin obviously hadn't made it. Pouring the cup back into the pot, he left the kitchen, moving to his own room, gathering the maps and files that would help to decide the next destination.

Organizing the information took far too little time and Amon was all too quickly hearing the ringing on the line.

"Kenichi Nagira Law Offices," the bored, tinny female voice answered.

"I need to speak to your boss," he said, wondering if the secretary would finally recognize his voice.

"About what case?" Apparently not.

"Tell him it's Case Number Twenty-Five-Fifteen."

Amon heard the woman sigh and then, distantly, heard her relate the information to someone else. Moments later there was a click.

"Well, I was wondering when you'd call, ya annoying bastard."

"Good afternoon to you, too."

"Afternoon?" his brother laughed. "You really are screwed up. I was just about to go home!"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Amon sighed. "And you put in such long hours."

"Was that sarcasm? Is my baby brother in a good mood?"

"I could kill you and no one would ever know."

"You're good," Nagira admitted. "But not even you could manage that shot."

Pulling the phone from his ear, Amon idly wondered if it might be possible to strangle the older man over the line. Technology was evolving rapidly.

"Ya there?"

Replacing the phone at his ear, he gave a weary, "I'm here."

"Good, for a minute there, I thought you might be trying to find some way to kill me over the phone."

'You have no idea,' Amon mouthed, pushing a hand through his hair.

"Anyway, you didn't call to play catch-up. What did you need?"

"Thinking of booking another trip," he began conversationally. "Just wanted some advice."

"Getting cold there?"

Amon hummed noncommittally. "It might warm up soon."

"And you'd want to be gone before that happened," he could almost hear the smirk in his brother's voice. "Damn Ice King, you are."

"So send me to Siberia," he nearly snarled. "I bet I could make that shot."

"Well," Nagira exhaled and he could almost see the stream of tobacco smoke. "There goes that idea."

"I'm sure you have others."

"Oh, definitely. But now I've got to reorganize everything. Can't have you sniping me, now can I?"

"Nagira," that time Amon did snarl.

"Alright, alright. Don't get snippy. Let's see…" and then all that could be heard was rustling pages and half-muttered locations. "Here we go," Nagira chimed after a few moments.

As Nagira was chattering about places to go next, Robin entered the room, silent in a way that only she could manage, and set down a pot of fresh coffee. One of Nagira's words caught his ear and Amon looked up at her, smiling, mood suddenly lightened.

"Thanks," he murmured. Then, louder. "So, what do you think about Seville for our next little vacation?"

Nagira went completely silent. Robin met his eyes and smiled.

"I go where you go," came the whisper.

"Who are you talking to?" Nagira's voice was thick, as though caught on something.

"I'm just clearing it with Robin," he let out a slight laugh. And Amon had thought he was paranoid.

Nagira said nothing.

"You didn't think I'd make her up and move without at least telling her where, did you?"

A shuddering breath came over the line and Robin's eyes turned panicked.

"Otouto," the normally boisterous voice was suddenly so very small. "Robin's gone."

And suddenly she was. The coffee was cold.

He didn't hear the phone clatter to the floor.