Ugh, pardon the long wait. I've forgotten about this fic for, what, 4 months? I am truly terrible. Regret courses through my veins. Anyway, crying boys hooray!

Chapter Trois

If it had not been obvious that he was in tears halfway down the road, it was more than apparent now. That bastardly inspector was undoubtedly still on his trail (not that it mattered, the guy knew where he lived) and it took all he could to not go sprinting away and cast even more public embarrassment unto himself. Luckily, the complex he called 'home' was just around the corner, and his suffering of being tailed would end at the doorstep. Just a few more feet to go. The constant pressure of eyes on his back made the trip feel more prolonged.

As soon as his sneaker hit the wood of the entryway floor, as soon as the lock on his door ensured his safety, he collapsed.

"Why?" he mumbled through his sniveling, "Why, oh why, do painful memories have to be drawn out? And by my public enemy of all people?"

He never even noticed Fondue curl up next to him, giving him all the comfort a canine such as himself can give, whispering caring nothings into his ear through whimpers, 'It'll be okay, my partner,' 'I smell your tears, and I wish for nothing else but to lick them up and make them disappear.'

Raphael nestled his fingers into the sleek fur of his faithful companion and pulled him into an embrace, much like a toddler would to a stuffed toy after a nightmare. He lay there for who knows how long, wallowing in woeful memories of childhood past.

The dinner table never was all that lively in the Vergier household, even to the point where apathetic would be describing the atmosphere lightly. Of course, the daddy-daughter duo contributed nothing to change that air surrounding them, so the situation was not a negative one, but neutral ground at best. Conversation was brought up once every few moons, but always pit-patted its way out with a result of the ever-rising awkward pressure choking one of the two to the point of leaving the room, meal unfinished.

Vergier raised his eyes from the plate laying in front of him, sight directing towards the one and only detective of the household; holding her phone in one hand, absent-mindedly twirling her fork in the other. He knew their dinner time was one of silence, but maybe, just maybe, she could get his gears turning and thoughts blazing on the case of the redhead he had seen puffy-eyed and running. She was the best, (though unofficial,) detective he knew of, for pete's sake! (Given the only other he was acquainted with was a complete nutcase who couldn't give a lick of responsibility towards the force due to his overwhelming greed and ego.) So, he decided to ease some ideas out of her without bringing up the subject.

Here goes nothing. "So… Um, how is the food tonight?"
Her father's voice snapped her out of her momentary electronic trance. "Oh! Uh, yeah, it's good, if I do say so myself. It's not like you can go wrong with spaghetti though…Heh..."

"Mmmm…"

"Yeah…" she mumbled, attention turning back to her phone.

"...Charlotte?"

"Hmm?"

Her full attention was on him. The calculating gaze he was on the receiving end of sent off the warning signals and he remembered shit, she's a detective, this wont get past her! "Uh… Never-…. Nevermind."

The outcome of his decision was worse than what he expected.
"Dad, something's up, isn't it?"

Shit. "No, nothing's wrong. I was just thinking about some things."

"Like…?"

"Why should I tell you? You would only try to weasel your way into this mess with me."

"W-weasel..?! It's a detective's duty to weasel!"

"You're not a detective."
"Ferme ta bouche!*"

"Charlotte!"

"Ugh! I can't stand you!"

"Charlotte, just listen to me!"
"Oh, so now you want to spill the beans. What case can't you figure out, Monsieur Grande Inspecteur?"

"There is no case!"

"Well then what is it?!"

The argument came to a standstill at that moment, both of them red-faced and on their feet, chairs pushed back and hands on the table. In a flash of realization they noticed what a mess they must have been, and in a quick shuffle of embarrassment and mumbled apology, their chairs were uprighted and they were sitting at the table once more.

Vergier began. "Well, today I made a mistake- don't you 'pfft' at me, missy!- and I, um, upset someone who I would like to know more about- no, no girlfriend- and I would like to find some way to, uh, apologize to him?"

"So the guilt is setting in, huh? For once in your life you're being humane, father o' mine. Might I inquire why you are asking your daughter though? Love isn't a private eye's business as much as thievery you know."

Oh, why did she say thief? "The subject at hand is more in your jurisdiction as a teenager than mine, and i think your opinion might be of more result compared to my own, so to speak."

"Heh, you old coot. Well, you upset him, right?" He nods. "Was he pissed?" He nods again. "Did he cry?" Reluctantly, he nods. She hisses at the thought. "Oooh, you messed up big time."

"Yes, I know that already, get on with the telling of what I can do to fix this."

She smirks. "Grovel."

"...What"
"You heard me, beg. Plead for forgiveness. You've knocked down a teenage boy's ego, and if I know anything about high school boys and their esteem, having an adult come for mercy is the biggest way to one up their spirits."

"..."

"Don't worry, you don't have to get on your knees or anything, just let them know you need their approval."

"...This is embarrassing."

"Yeah? How do you think the poor kid running away in tears feels?"

"...Touche."

Charlie rose from her seat. "Relax, boys are stupid creatures. Even a nicely worded letter would work on them, for heaven's sakes." She picked up her plate and held out a hand for her father's. "Gimmie."

He handed it over.

"And with your plate, I bid adieu." She says, halfway through the doorframe already, leaving Vergier in wonder of how he would be able to do this.

*Ferme ta bouche - Shut your mouth

Thank you Guest fro correcting me!