Pet Shop Of Horrors Fan Fiction ❯ Dragon Ex Machina ❯ Chapter 10 ( Chapter 10 )

Dragon Ex Machina

 

DISC: I do not own Pet Shop of Horrors or its characters. These are the property of mangaka Matsuki Akino and publishing house Tokyopop (in the U.S., anyway). I make no profit from this story. Please don't sue.

 

 

Chapter X

 

 

To sleep, perchance to dream…

 

D fell asleep quickly that night. Early. Maybe he'd see Leon in his dream again. For some reason he wanted to.

 

As he began to slide into the arms of Morpheus, a voice called to him.

“D! God damn it. Where the hell are you?”

 

It was the detective. As he'd hoped.

 

“Detective,” he stated calmly, looking around and realizing he was standing on the bow of the ship - as he had two year prior, “there is no need to shout. I am here.”

 

“So… I guess I have to stick to the script and say, `So this is… the pet shop?' like I do every time I have this damned dream.”

 

Quirking one eyebrow, D responded, “You already know that this is the pet shop. You were here two years ago.”

 

The Count watched as Leon froze, his face a picture of surprise. “So… I can say what I want? Do what I want? And you aren't going to push me off the ship?”

 

Mouth twisted in a smirk, “I'm not quite sure I can make *that* guarantee.”

 

Leon barked out a chuckle at that before he could stop himself. Looking around, he spotted a discarded piece of rope and grabbed it. With an alacrity he didn't know he possessed, the rope soon became a loop and before anyone could stop him, he grabbed D's hand and thrust the makeshift handcuff on, fastening the other end around his own wrist. Then he sat down on the deck with a plop, pulling the Count down with him.

 

“Oof!” the wind was knocked out of the kami as he landed on his bum.

 

Apologetically, Leon smiled at him and said, “Sorry. I just don't want you getting away from me any more.”

 

Huffing a sigh, he asked the question that had been plaguing him - it was time to see what was real and what was imagined. “Why do you keep chasing me, detective? What do you possibly seek to gain?”

 

Blinking, the tall blonde man said, “I promised Chris I'd give you your drawing back. You'd had it in your suitcase, so I hoped it was important and that you might miss it.”

 

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a crayon drawing. It was… a bit cleaner and more beautiful than D remembered it. D noticed that his eyes practically glowed in this dream drawing. He looked… beautiful. More than beautiful. He looked… And Leon looked positively silly in it - a caricature of himself. Like an unwieldy moron. It was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen.

 

“I'd… forgotten,” he breathed.

 

With a grimace, Leon continued speaking, “You forgot a lot of things, I think. You forgot to say goodbye to Chris - he's still upset about that, you know. You forgot it's bad manners to push someone off a boat. You forgot that I never give up on something that I want, once I want it.”

 

“And you want me?”

 

He nodded once firmly, not looking the Count in either colored eye.

 

The count took his most lofty tone. “Well, unfortunately for you, I am quite far out of your jurisdiction, my dear detective.”

 

“Yeah, well… I haven't been a detective for almost two years now, you know. So juris-damn-diction ain't got nothin' to do with it.”

 

“Language, please!” The comment was almost knee-jerk. “You intend to just take me in, regardless? How, I wonder, do you hope to accomplish this?”

 

A tight scowl on his face, he replied, “I thought maybe I'd ask. Please don't leave me again.” The words came out tensely. One who didn't know the dear would think he was angry and forcing the words out through spite.

 

But that's not how it sounded to D. And he didn't know how to respond to the plea he heard in those words.

 

“Let me find you. Let me come to you. Please, D.” Through gritted teeth.

 

Mouth agape, D could only blink at the man.

 

“You were right. You did more good than our legal system could. Than I did. If you'd let me, I'd help. Not that you need it. But… You know, I'm not… But if you let me find you, by the time I get there…

 

“God damn it, D! You're so fucking infuriating and how the fucking hell did I fucking fall in love with you?”

 

What? The confession stunned him beyond the ability to notice the foul language. He wanted to stare at the man, but also couldn't bear to look and see whether this was real. Looking down at their bound hands, D noticed that their fingers were entwined. They fit so perfectly, as if they belonged there, were meant to be laced together.

 

He looked up to see the detective biting his lower lip while he waited for a response. At that moment, D felt himself begin to wake and panic set in. No! He needed more time! He needed to-

 

“Japan! I'm in Tokyo, Japan! Leon! Leon!” he screamed as daylight burst through the dream.

 

“I'm in Tokyo, Leon. Find me,” he whispered, hoping against hope that it was real, that it was true, that he'd heard, that he'd come.

 

“I'm sorry I pushed you, Leon. Find me. Oh, find me.”

 

X

 

He'd admitted it. He loved the damned Count. And immediately afterwards, the dream had started to fade.

 

Didn't that just figure? Of course. He was the only one who was obsessed here. D was doing fine without him. No response to his declaration except to look at…

 

They were holding hands. When had that happened?

 

And then, he felt the familiar sensation of waking.

 

As he fell from the dream, he thought he heard, ever so faintly that he wasn't even certain it was real, D's voice saying, “Japan. I'm in Tokyo, Japan. Leon.” His name echoed in his head. D's voice, but he must be imagining it. Must be imagining that D could ever sound… frantic?

 

A whisper on the breeze as he looked around the room, “Find me. Oh, find me.”

 

God damn.

 

Japan.

 

That was sure to be expensive.

 

…And he couldn't even be sure it was real.

 

“Shit. In for a penny…”

 

It wouldn't take long to pack, leave the hostel and get to the airport. He wondered how ungodly long the flight would be. Did he even have enough money to buy a ticket? Maybe he could get a shift on a shipping flight as a bag handler…? Probably unlikely.

 

This would be a hell of a lot easier if he were rich.

 

How much money did he even have? If he remembered correctly, he'd had about $300 when he checked into this place and the last bit of work he'd gotten had paid him $150. But then, a man had to eat… He should probably still have about $400 left.

 

He pulled out the folio that he kept Chris' drawing in, flipped to the back where he hid his traveling cash and started counting. Crap. It was only $375. Plus the cash in his wallet, he had a total of $382.78. Maybe he could get another night watchman job at one of the resort hotels. No one ever really liked working the midnight shift…

 

Well, no time like the present.

 

Grabbing his satchel - it held the folio, a change of clothes, a plastic bag, a small towel, a comb, a razor, toothbrush, toothpaste, bottle of hair and body wash, and a stick of deodorant; that's all he really needed nowadays - he headed toward the hostel's shower area. Once he'd cleaned up and put on his clean clothes, he'd see if he couldn't find a job.

 

As always, he stepped into the shower fully-clothed. Once they were wet, he lathered up the clothes, stripped out of them, rinsed them out and hung them on the rod. Next was the washing of himself: lather, rinse, turn off the water. Yeah, the Count would probably groan at his new laundry technique, if not yell at him outright, but it was efficient and this way he got clean clothes at locations where they “didn't allow patrons to do laundry,” and instead guided them to the “laundromat down the road” where he was invariably overcharged.

 

After he finished drying himself off and got dressed, he gave the wet and now clean clothes one last wringing before rolling them inside the towel, stuffing it in the large, resealable plastic bag, and sticking the bag back in his satchel. He'd hang it up to dry when he went to sleep tonight. At the sinks, he brushed his teeth, combed his hair, ran the deodorant under his shirt to his pits, and he was ready to go.

 

Softly, he knocked at the hostel office. He had to let them know he was out of the room - and check to see if there was still availability that night, and if so, how early was the latest time he could check in if he needed to.

 

“Come in,” a lilting voice called. Of all the hostels he'd visited in the last two years, he had to admit that Hawaii's was the cleanest and the staff was the nicest.

 

“I'm out of the room, Kapalekanaka*,” he announced to the young man behind the counter. He'd met the guy when he'd checked in and marveled at how someone could live with a name quite that long. “Not sure if I'll need to be back tonight. Depends how much a flight to Japan costs.”

 

The man smiled at him softly. “Thank you for staying with us. There will be plenty of rooms available should you need one tonight, Mr. Orcot. Hm… Orcot… That reminds me of something- … Ah! I remember! A boy dropped off a package for you.” He reached under the counter and pulled out an envelope. “You're a detective?” he queried, reading the label.

 

Scowling, Leon didn't know how to respond. No one knew he was here. At least no one who knew he had been a detective. “Not anymore,” he said softly, accepting the package. “Thank you.”

 

“Not at all.”

 

Nodding, he turned and left. As the door to the office closed behind him, he slid one finger in to open the envelope. Inside, there was a ticket for a noon flight to Tokyo. A post-it note on top read, “As promised - your opportunity.”

 

What. The hell.

 

Aw, screw it. Who the fuck cared who sent it?

 

Smiling, he began to run toward the bus stop that would take him to the airport.

 

 

*Kapalekanaka means Defender of Mankind.

 

 

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