Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fiction ❯ Deep Well of Remembrance ❯ Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't currently own the rights to WHR. I do hope to win the lottery and buy them though, in which case I will cajole the three M's into writing a second season. Can you imagine that collaboration?

 

This is a one-shot written in response to Mehiel's Smut-fic challenge on the Harry's board. I was just trying to come up with an unusual pairing and ended up with this. I don't know yet how I feel about it. Please read and review.

 

 

The darkened cab crawled slowly through Tokyo rush hour traffic leaving Touko plenty of time to reconsider her decision. She was heading inexorably towards the STN-J office of Raven's flat - an area of the city that she used to know so well before…well, before things had fallen apart.

 

It seemed these days as if she were on auto pilot, her body moved and her face projected animation that was not really occurring inside her head. She had made this journey frequently in the past few months and she still wondered why. Why was she drawn to this place of sorrow, of loss, of anguish?

 

Even as her mind framed the questions, it was already shooting the answers straight into her cerebral cortex. Why? Because he had been there. He had walked those hallways, talked to those people, left his mark and his scent and his very essence there.

 

How disloyal, she chided herself. You went there initially to collect what personal effects remained of your father after Solomon informed you of his death. You went there to collect his ashtray, his strange iceberg-like cigar lighter. That's all that remained of him - ashes. But you found so much, much more.

 

Touko wrapped her arms around her torso protectively. It was at Raven's flat that she had finally begun to get a sense of the complicated mystery that had been him - Amon.

 

She had never been invited by either her father or her lover to cross the threshold of the establishment that had haunted both men in their waking and sleeping hours. And if she were to be totally honest with herself, she had leapt at the excuse of her father's death to walk those dark corridors. She had wanted so much to be a part of Amon's life and now, in a strange way, she was. Now that it was much, much too late.

 

Since the time of her accident, her shooting, Touko had brooded upon Amon. Her father had urged her to forget him. How clearly she remembered the day he had shown up at the convalescent hospital bearing flowers, keys to a new apartment and a ticket to a new life. It had been so typical of him to think that she could forget so easily. The idea that she could erase Amon from her life had been ludicrous, of course, but to her father that had been the natural, the only alternative. Her mind had told her that her father's words were true, that she really did need to forget him and move on, but her heart had screamed at her that this was simply not possible.

 

She had cried that day, the tears slipping down her cheeks as she gazed out the window of her room. She had cried for Amon and for herself and what she, what they, had lost.

 

She had not cried again.

 

She remembered vividly the day she had dared to walk into the STN-J, Raven's Flat division - how her breath had seemed so loud in her ears and how her footsteps had faltered. Though the letter from Solomon had reported only that her father was presumed dead amidst the wreckage of his Factory (his body had never been recovered), she knew in her heart that Amon was gone also. His body had not been recovered either, nor had Robin's but she knew just as surely that she would never see him again.

 

Even so, she felt the need to understand him more than she ever had when they were physically together.

 

She had met his co-workers; Sakaki, Karasuma, Hittori, Kosaka, and Michael. Ah, yes, Michael. It was Michael that she was going to see now.

 

They had gazed at her with a mixture of curiosity and pity, a look she hated, as she quietly followed Kosaka to her late father's office. But it hadn't been his office she had really come to see. She had gazed for what seemed like minutes (but had probably only been seconds) at Amon's workstation, looking for some remnant of him, some sign that he had really existed.

 

And after that first day she had found herself going back to that place, found herself trying to connect with his former co-workers, anxious to hear any stories they could tell her about him, any insights into the complicated man that they could provide. She had become obsessed with learning anything about Amon that she could.

 

She haunted Harry's. She reminisced with that kind man, Kobari. She conveniently “ran into” Karasuma, Doujima and Sakaki and plied them with drinks to keep their conversation flowing. She brought donuts and coffee to Michael because she knew that Robin had done the same thing. She earned their trust, in a fashion because she really knew that Hunters didn't trust anyone. Amon had taught her that much.

 

They knew what she was doing and why and she knew that they knew. The thought pressed against her conscience but she continued anyway.

 

She had been so lonely since the incident. She was a broken shadow of her former self. On the outside she was still beautiful, still composed, still a sane, functioning, modern woman but on the inside she had lost her fire and her will to go on. She was a Touko that wasn't Touko anymore.

 

Two nights ago, after a vivid dream in which Amon was holding her, caressing her, making love to her, she had awoken to make a startling decision. She was going to connect with him again and this time she would use a member of the STN-J. She had weighed her options carefully. Kosaka? Too old, married, and that mustache - definitely not an option. Sakaki? Possibly a good choice but he was too passionate, too unpredictable. No, not Sakaki. She had a sneaking suspicion that Hattori was gay so he was definitely out. And while Karasuma and Doujima were both attractive, she was not tempted to pursue a woman. And that left Michael. Michael was sensitive and he had been the most kind to her. It would have to be Michael.

 

She thought of his reaction to her yesterday. She had leaned over him while he tapped away at his keyboard, so quickly that she almost felt dizzy watching his long, nimble fingers dance across the keys. Her breath had feathered along his neck and he had instantly jerked stiffly.

 

“I brought you some donuts,” she had said to him as he removed his earphones. He had reddened.

 

“Oh…um…thank you Touko-san,” he had stammered. She had let her hand fall lightly against his shoulder.

 

“Who's this?” she had inquired, pointing to the small, blond woman's photo that he had attached to the upper corner of his computer. A catalogue model it appeared - a young woman with green eyes. “Is it your girlfriend?”

 

“No, no” he had assured her quickly. “I just think it makes work a lot easier if you have a pretty girl to inspire you.” He had reddened further under her amused gaze.

 

“Really?” she had mused playfully. “Do you know her? Or is she a photo from a magazine?”

 

“Well…she's…it's just that…I named her Tomiko” he blushed.

 

“Hmm…I would have thought you would have called her Robin, since she looks an awful lot like her” Touko squeezed his shoulder before heading towards the elevator. “Bye, Michael. I'll come by tomorrow and bring you more donuts.” She had loved leaving him with his mouth hanging open and his eyes gazing after her in both horror and embarrassment.

 

Poor Michael, Touko thought. He really didn't know what he was in for tonight.

 

 

Michael was typing to the beat of Skinny Puppy in the deserted office. Everyone else had gone home for the night and he was thinking that, soon, he might head in the direction of his apartment himself. It still felt strange to realize that he could leave the office, that it wasn't his home, his life, his prison any longer.

 

There hadn't been a hunt scheduled that night so Michael was simply indulging his pet project - searching for information about Amon and Robin. He figured that if he stayed at it long enough, he might be able to find some clue about their whereabouts. He had never believed Doujima's story that they had perished during the Factory's collapse, none of them had really. They had just kept going, kept pretending that everything was back to normal - as if everything could ever be normal again!

 

He glanced at the magazine clipping attached to his computer and his thoughts abruptly shifted to Touko. She was an enigma to him. He knew that he was probably the furthest from the world's expert on women that a man could be…but even so, he couldn't help but think that there had been something behind her comments and her behavior last night.

 

He knew it was utterly impossible that any woman as sexy and gorgeous as Touko could ever have been making a pass at him…Michael, but still...

 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the elevator stopping at the fifth floor. It must be Sakaki or Karasuma, he thought.

 

It was no surprise then that he was so utterly shocked by the sight of Touko herself emerging from the elevator with a greasy box of donuts and two cups of coffee in her elegant hands. Half-rising from his swivel chair he pulled his headphones down, minimized the windows on his computer screen and stared at her in shock.

 

“T…Touko-san?” he stuttered, “What are you doing here?”

 

“I told you I'd be back to see you tonight Michael,” she chided mildly. “Why do you look so surprised? Aren't you glad to see me? I thought you'd probably be working too hard and it looks as though I was right.”

 

Touko stopped by his workstation and set her gifts on his desktop. The two gazed at each other for several long moments without speaking.

 

“The others have gone already. Um…there's not a hunt scheduled for tonight but I had some back work to get to…” his voice drifted off uncertainly.

 

“Then I'm sure you could use the company,” Touko murmured, unconcerned about the color infusing his face and neck. “You work such late hours Michael. You really need to get a life outside of this place otherwise you'll end up like A…”her voice trailed off as she winced. There was a brief pause as Touko mentally readjusted and then she continued.

 

“You know Michael I don't think sugar and caffeine are really going to help you much. I was surprised when Robin told me that she used to bring these to you.” She noticed the way he winced when she spoke the name of her former roommate. Still she continued. “I think I know of a much more relaxing way to spend your evenings.”

 

“Touko-san, I'm not really sure what you mean…” he stopped as she moved behind his chair and he felt her elegant fingers begin to massage his shoulders. What the hell was this all about?

 

“Shhh, Michael-chan. Just relax now,” she soothed as her fingers began to stroke and knead the knots that hours in front of a computer had formed in his shoulders and neck. She leaned forward and pressed her chest against his rigid back as she worked her fingers and palms in slow circles. “Relax,” she said again in a more commanding voice.

 

As his head drooped, almost reluctantly forward, and his muscles began to soften, Touko leaned forward and moved her hands downward over his chest. He stiffened again and swiveled his head over his shoulder to gaze at her levelly.

 

“What the hell are you doing Touko?” he demanded hoarsely.

 

“Seducing you Michael,” she stated plainly.

 

Michael was shocked. He was aware of her hands continuing to move up and down his chest and even though his brain screamed that this was wrong, wrong, wrong his traitorous body leaned into her touch anyway.

 

“Why?” His voice sounded weak and gravelly to his own ears and he was mortified when she laughed softly.

 

“I have to,” she stated bluntly. “I need something, someone right now Michael. I need someone who was close to him.”

 

Michael knew she was referring to Amon and not her bastard father. His mind struggled to form a coherent thought under the persistent strokes of her hands. She was stroking his sides now and her motions were causing his sweater to creep up. She was almost touching his skin and his breath was growing more ragged by the minute.

 

“I'm not him,” he ground out forcefully. “I'm not Amon, and I'm not your father either. I'm me. I'm Michael and I'll never be like them.”

 

“I know Michael. I know you're not like them. I don't want to be with them again. I don't want to be controlled. I just want to forget. But I want to remember too. Does that make sense? I thought if anyone would understand that it would be you. You want to forget too don't you Michael?”

 

And in that moment Michael did understand. He knew she was talking about Robin and his hopeless feelings for her. And he knew that she was asking him to allow her the freedom to be in control for once, to allow her to dominate this encounter in order to regain herself. He had known when he'd first met her that she was a broken shell of the woman she had once been. He had seen the empty, hollow look in her eyes and known that she had lost more in the Factory's collapse than anyone in the STN-J. He had felt pity for her. Now he knew that she had recognized those same feelings in him and he knew what she was offering - a chance to escape the emptiness and a chance to start over.

 

“Yeah, I do understand,” he whispered. “And I do want to forget.”

 

She pressed against him as she leaned over to cup his lean face in her hands.

 

“Help me forget Michael. Let me help you to forget. Just for tonight…just for this one night…please.”

 

He swiveled around and placed his hands around her waist and his face between her breasts. They stayed that way for a long moment and then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his softly.

 

“We will forget, Michael. And we will heal. Tonight.”

 

His mouth opened under the pressure of her lips and her tongue pressed against his. She fell into his lap and he leaned back to accommodate her weight, his hands tightening around her waist, her hands tightening around his neck and fisting in his hair. He felt a tear slide across her cheek and onto his.

 

The kiss deepened. His tongue pressed back against hers stroking it and his hands began to roam under her shirt, pulling it from the confines of her skirt. As his palms made contact with the smooth, bare skin of her back she arched and lifted her legs to straddle him on the chair. The chair teetered dangerously.

 

“Not…here…” she gasped into his mouth.

 

His overheated brain began to search for options. His place? No, too far and he usually took the subway. Her place? Had she even driven here? He remembered dimly that she seemed to always arrive by cab. Where? Then he hit upon an idea.

 

He rose from the protesting chair, still locked against her, her mouth sucking against his neck as his fingers fumbled behind him to lock on his mouse and, operating by long practice and instinct he clicked his computer to shutdown mode.

 

Staggering towards the elevator, they continued to embrace. Her tongue was running up and down and his jaw line and her teeth were nipping at the sensitive skin near his collarbone. He used instinct again to guide his blind hand towards the button for the elevator.

 

Waiting for the elevator to arrive, he tried to run his fingers along her breast but she blocked him by tightening her arm. Her hands fisted in his hair and she pulled him closer to stick her tongue in his mouth again.

 

So she wanted to be in total control of this encounter? Michael thought ruefully. Alright, he would give in to her whims. She could control him. Her body's demands were already having a devastating effect on him.

 

The elevator arrived with a quiet ding and they staggered into it. Touko pushed Michael roughly against the back wall and slung one thigh across his. She ground herself against him as she pressed her mouth into his with a surprising amount of force. It felt like she was trying to suck his very soul through his mouth. The elevator didn't move. Michael didn't move.

 

Finally, Touko moved slightly to allow him access to the control panel. For the third time that evening, Michael had to move by instinct because her body was blocking his and she kept his face firmly planted between her breasts. The elevator doors closed and they began to descend.

 

Michael was finding it hard to concentrate beyond the feelings of her lips sucking hungrily at his neck and her right hand stroking along his crotch. He wanted to warn her to slow down, that he couldn't hold out much longer. The elevator stopped.

 

When the doors slid open, Touko backed out of the elevator, still holding his hands tightly. He was shocked by the look of lust, pain, desire and shame etched across her features. He thought his own face might betray the same emotions. Then she turned and he heard her gasp.

 

“What is this place?” she asked, fearfully and a little confusedly.

 

“It's the Well,” he said softly. “I don't exactly know why it's here in the middle of the building, but I've always been drawn to this place. Rob…she used to come visit me here when she was hiding. This is where Amon rescued her when we were attacked. It took me a long time to figure it out but…there's a secret passage under the well that leads to the outside. There's no cameras down there…we should be OK…” his voice trailed off uncertainly.

 

“This is where he saved her?” Touko repeated his statement. “And this is where he…”

 

“Yes,” Michael didn't elaborate as he walked slowly to the well and stood on its lip. His shaking fingers sought the hidden mechanism that opened the passage. With a deep grinding sound the well opened and they watched the dark maw of the passage appear before them.

 

Michael noticed that she was crying again and he took her hand, helping her slowly and awkwardly descend into the blackness. He followed her. Reaching into his pocket he felt for the matches that he had pocketed at Harry's at dinner. He turned and felt along the walls until he discovered the stumps of the candles in their wall sconces. He lit them.

 

Dim light illuminated Touko's face. He noticed that she had stopped crying and was staring at the ground. He had a sudden impulse to tell her to forget this whole crazy idea and go home. Then she looked up. He saw her eyes harden with resolve even as her hands snaked forward to grab him and he pushed his earlier doubt aside. Just for tonight…we can forget.

 

Their bodies slammed together almost painfully and suddenly they were sinking to the cold stone floor. She pushed him down and straddled his waist, her hands pushing up his sweater and running up and down his chest before stripping him of his garment completely. He cried out briefly as his back came into contact with the frigid floor. She circled his nipples, tweaking them, replacing her fingers with her lips as her hands continued their downward search. His neck arched backward and he gasped.

Her fingers were tugging on his zipper, releasing him from the bonds of his pants. Her fingers closed around him through the cloth of his boxers. He groaned. He reached up to touch her but she avoided his seeking hands. She seemed almost angry.

 

She gripped the back of his neck and pulled his face upward toward her breasts. She held him there for a moment and then released him, reaching down to slowly release the buttons on the front of her shirt. When the two sides of her blouse fell apart she unfastened the front hook on her bra and then grasped his neck again pulling his mouth toward her right breast.

 

“Suck me,” she commanded him, a harsh, almost bitter tone in her voice. Michael complied with the rough command, his lips eagerly searching for her taught and straining nipple.

 

He laved her roughly with his tongue and she allowed his right hand free to minister to her left breast. Gasping, he suckled her as she continued to rock and grind against him. Her hands reached again toward his face, caressing his smooth cheeks as she pulled his glasses off and set them on the lowest step of the chamber. Then she gripped his hair and pulled his face in once again.

 

His body was thrumming with guilty pleasure. He was imagining a different body than hers writhing beneath him. In his mind the hair that whispered around his flushed face and fell against his bare back was golden not brown. Through the fog of his blurry vision he imagined that the eyes gazing back at him in the dim light, half closed with pleasure were green and not brown. The lips that closed over his whispered a different name, softly, “Michael”.

 

But those same passionate lips that trailed across the bridge of his nose and sucked on his sensitive earlobe murmured “Amon”.

 

Touko strained and writhed beneath Michael's mouth. She pushed him back down against the floor, ignoring another startled gasp from the boy and leaned back to remove her panties from underneath her skirt. She had planned this. She had not worn her usually demure office hose for this very reason. She had wanted this to be quick and hot and real.

 

She licked her palm and then reached down to grasp him and lift him free from the confines of his clothing. Stroking quickly with her hot hand she guided him inside of her and sank down on top of him. She allowed him to reach forward and grab her hips as she began to ride him. Closing her eyes tightly she remembered.

 

A different body, harder, leaner and more muscular than the one she straddled. Smoke gray eyes that burned her with their intensity. Rough, callused hands that stroked her bare skin and set off fireworks of pleasure in her body. A cold pendant that swung against her breasts whenever he was on top. The delicious feeling of being mastered by a man who was so amazingly in control of his own emotions.

 

Touko rode Michael hard, her slick wetness engulfing him as his hips bucked off the floor to meet her thrusts. Her hands remained clenched against his chest and his against her hips. Neither looked at the other.

 

Nearing her climax, Touko grabbed his hands and moved them to the center of her parted thighs, urging him without words to touch her, to stroke her. Placing her hands on top of his she moved them through her thick dark curls and hot, pulsing wetness to the small bud and rotated his thumbs over her.

 

Seconds later she felt the first spasm of climax hit her and she clenched her thighs around him encouraging him to release himself into her. They fell together, boneless and exhausted.

 

They lay, pressed together for a long time until their breathing slowed and their eyes began to focus again. Slowly, Touko lifted her body off of him and closed her bra and then her shirt. She turned to pick up her panties and step gingerly into them. He was still leaning on the floor, his sad gaze staring at the candles on the wall.

 

She went to the stairs and picked up his glasses, clenching them in her hand. Then she turned back to him. He had pulled up his pants but was sitting where he had been before, clenching his sweater in his hand. She handed his glasses to him silently and then, before he could react, she leaned in and kissed him gently on his closed lips.

 

“Thank you” she stated simply and proceeded to walk down the stairs at the back of the well chamber, the stairs that he had told her led to the street and an unknown life and a new future.

 

Putting on his glasses with shaking fingers he listened to her retreating footsteps and he thought he heard her whisper “Goodbye, Amon.” And then she was gone.

 

His gaze returned to the sconces on the wall.

 

“Goodbye…Robin.”