Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fiction ❯ Power and Control ❯ Chapter 14

Power and Control- Chapter 14

 

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Amon watched the tall figure pause for a moment to light his cigarette and then resume his nonchalant perusal of the area. The man walked along sidewalk slowly, trying to make it appear as though he wasn't looking or waiting for something to happen. At three in the morning, this was a hard feat to pull off, but thankfully this part of town was mostly industrial and devoid of people. There were still a few hours before the dock workers showed up to unload the morning's catch and the air would once again be filled with the pungent aroma of fish guts.

 

Keeping his head down, the man began to walk towards the shadowy area Amon was using as his hiding spot. Amon slinked back into the darkness and waited for the other to pass by. At a glance, the tall man looked highly suspicious, someone the police would most likely stop and question. He was dressed too sharply for the average person, but not nearly as impeccable as say, a Yakuza boss would. The ridiculous white shag-fur coat was not something Amon thought of as appropriate underworld attire. And the retro pompadour hairdo, complete with stylized sideburns, was the final nail in the coffin for this over-the-top look. If the man was Yakuza, he had lackey written all over him.

 

Creeping out from his concealed location, Amon quietly came up behind the man. “I thought I told you not to wear that coat, Nagira. It's too recognizable.”

 

The other man jumped like a scalded cat and nearly tripped over his own feet as he turned to see who his assailant was. “Jesus, Amon! Don't sneak up on me like that. I nearly swallowed my cigarette.” He coughed a few times and then took a long drag. “You need to teach me that melting-out-of-the-shadows trick,” he said as he blew the smoke out of his mouth sideways. “It might come in handy one day. And why are you always hating on my coat? This is high fashion, you know? Not the I-can't-wear-anything-other-than-black wardrobe you have.”

 

Amon scowled at his half-brother through the haze of cigarette smoke. If he had been in a lighter mood, he may have actually smiled at the playful jab. When their eyes met a second time, he could already see the gears in Nagira's head processing his appearance. Amon looked away. Nagira was probably the one person on the planet he couldn't fool. “Walk with me,” he said flatly and turned to walk towards the piers.

 

From the corner of his eye, Amon could see the questioning look on the other man's face as he fell into step beside him. That age old, hollow pain throbbed in his stomach. He hated, absolutely hated that he was going to once again involve his brother in his tangled web of lies. And for all his bad fashion sense, Nagira was far from stupid. He would see right through Amon's request. Maybe not for what it really was, but he would know something bad was going on with his baby brother and he would want to help. Nagira must never, ever know what Zaizen and his cohorts did to him. The mere thought of it had sent him into a blind panic earlier in the evening shortly after he asked his brother to meet up with him. It seemed like a lifetime ago since the last panic attack, but the concerned tone in his brother's voice had been enough to reduce him to a hyperventilating wreck as soon as he disconnected the call. He wasn't worth it. He didn't deserve to have someone care so much about him.

 

When they reached the harbor's edge, the two men stood quietly, staring down as the tide lapped against the barnacle encrusted dock supports. Amon leaned forward onto the railing and took a moment to calm himself before pulling the carefully folded papers out of the pocket of his trench coat. There was a slight tremor in his hand as he passed them over.

 

“I need you to look into something for me,” he said softly. Nagira cocked his head to the side; one questioning eyebrow arched as he accepted the papers and opened them up. “I know you have contacts you can bring that to. I need to find a way to bypass this type of security lock.”

 

“Is this a numerical lock or does it use a proximity swipe?” Nagira asked without looking up as he perused the documents.

 

“Both,” Amon said with a weary sigh.

 

“And can I assume that you have neither of these items?”

 

Amon nodded slowly, as though it took a great effort to do so.

 

Nagira made a pained face as he refolded the papers and tucked them into his own pocket. “This isn't going to be easy, but I'll see what I can do. I should have something for you in a few days.”

 

Hazel eyes stay locked on a large carrier ship floating on the horizon. “Thanks, Nagira.” It came out unintentionally clipped and forced and his shoulders sagged with frustration at his social ineptitude. The other man nodded his acceptance casually as though he were being thanked for giving him a ride home from work. It made that little place deep within Amon, surrounded by acres of ice, ache. Up until recently, the stoic man couldn't recall a time when he'd felt non-physical pain, so acute, so frightening in its intensity, stabbing right though his defenses and into the meaty part of his soul. And to feel it twice in as many days was almost maddening. Damn it, brother. Why do you have to be so understanding? Why are you so willing to break the law at nothing but a request from me?

 

Scowling down at his gloved hands as he curled them into tight fists, Amon fought back the urge to throw his brother's hospitality back in his face, like he had done so many times before when they were younger. Without much effort, Nagira's open and friendly demeanor began slipping through his carefully erected wall. After all these years, after all those times, the knee-jerk reaction was still to spurn his older half-sibling's attempts at friendship with an air of condescension and well-placed derision. But not anymore. The benefit of time had given Amon the realization that his anger was directed at the wrong person. Nagira was not to blame for the actions of their less-than-respectable father anymore than he was. Taking his anger out on him had been an act of selfish immaturity. Yet through all that, Amon found the hand that he had slapped away so many times before still being offered.

 

“So,” the other man inquired after another round of silence stretched out between them. “Do I get to know what all this secrecy is for? That system is pretty high-tech, not the usual in office security.”

 

Amon's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. “It's better that you don't.”

 

“I knew you were going to say that,” Nagira said through a soft chuckle. He brought the cigarette up to his mouth and puffed on it quietly.

 

From the corner of his eye, Amon could see the scrutinizing look he was being given. Unconsciously, he licked at his split lip. To his credit, Nagira had yet to say anything about the bruises that mottled his pale complexion, but the wheels were definitely spinning in his head.

 

Don't ask, Nagira. Please don't ask.

 

“Do you have court tomorrow?” Amon asked, part deflection, part apology for dragging him down to the waterfront in the wee hours of the morning.

 

Nagira exhaled the lungful of smoke slowly. “Nah, workload's been pretty light these last few weeks. You look like you've been keeping busy though.”

 

“Yeah,” he answered sardonically. His brother was giving him an opportunity to come clean, but Amon knew better. To take it and let Nagira know all his dark secrets would not only place him in danger, but would change whatever opinion the older man had of him. Amon surprised himself by being equally adverse to both. The distant horns of mooring ships punctuated another span of uncomfortable silence until it was broken by the ringing of his cell phone. In his line of work, a call at this hour wasn't unheard of, but something in his gut told him that wasn't going to be about a case. He pulled it from his pocket and checked the display. It was the office number. Michael.

 

“Yes,” he said gruffly into the receiver, turning his back on his brother. The voice on the other end immediately launched into a hyperactive tirade. “Sakaki, slow down. What happened?”

 

Hazel eyes went impossibly wide as he listened to the other teen's near-hysteric account of what happened after he left the office. “Okay, calm down….I know, I know…Is he alright? I'm on my way now; I'll be there as soon as I ca-- Just go be with him.” There was a loud crash followed by a repetitive dull thumping. God have mercy on what ever inanimate object the hot-headed blonde was unleashing his fury on. “Stop that, Sakaki,” he said with a parental tone. “He needs you calm right now. Take a deep breath.” Amon waited, counting off the seconds in his head. “Better? Good…I'll be there in twenty minutes.” He ended the call and turned around slowly to face his brother. A sudden feeling of guilt panged his stomach.

 

Nagira was leaning back against the railing casually, the cigarette held tightly between his lips. Amon didn't want to look him in the eye. “I have to go now,” he said quietly, sounding abnormally meek.

 

The older man nodded as he reached up to clasp the cig between his index and middle fingers. “That have anything to do with it?” he asked, gesturing to Amon's busted face with a flick of his wrist.

 

Unconsciously, Amon's hand flew up to his face, fingertips ghosting over his swollen cheekbone. He had been expecting that question the entire time, but it still caught off guard when it finally came. “I…I,” he stuttered, realizing that it was too late to cover up his reaction with his normal unwavering stoicism. He pursed his lips together tightly, jaw clenched to keep him from disclosing any more.

 

Nagira's eyes narrowed momentarily, but if there was something he wanted to say, he held it back. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You'll hear from me in a day or two,” he said tiredly as he pushed himself away from the guardrail.

 

“Thanks again, Nagira.”

 

The other man waved his acknowledgement over his shoulder, not bothering to turn around as he headed over to where he left his car.

 

Once inside the sanctuary of his sports car, Amon let out a shuddering breath. Gripping the wheel tightly, he leaned his head down onto his arms as waves of relief mixed with disgust drained all the energy from his body. He had managed to keep himself from losing it in front of Nagira. The hard part was over. Now he just needed to be careful not to involve his brother any more than he already was. His body trembled at the memory of what it cost him the last time. Unwanted hands touching intimate places, the burning agony of a tattoo needle scoring his back, the beatings, the never-ending humiliation, it all stampeded to the forefront of his mind with crippling force. He squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he possibly could, sucking gulps of air into his lungs. It was so utterly frightening how quickly he reverted back to this state. The years in-between melted away as if they had been nothing but a dream.

 

Mocking voices overlapped in a symphony of hysteria, each one adding its own texture and melody to the tune of Amon's agony. He felt the tenuous hold on his craft slipping and he tumbled down that dark, dark precipice. The tips of his fingers tingled with energy and he gripped the steering wheel, white-knuckled, as though it was his only lifeline. The headlights as well as the dashboard display illuminated suddenly as the very air around him seemed to become charged with electricity. Static crackled loudly out of the speakers causing the sub-woofers to vibrate so hard it seemed the car doors would be blown off their hinges. Every muscle in his body, every pore in his skin felt alive and brimming with power. So easy, it would be so easy to give in and allow the sinfully delicious power to surge from within. He was so tired of the painstaking efforts he had to go through to keep himself in check. Just once, he wondered, what would it be like to let it all go? His pupils contracted to nothing but a speck of black. The energy crawled up his arms like a thousand ants under his skin. So good, Amon felt almost giddy from it.

 

The Orbo flared neon green as it boiled in its glass casing. The building power surge was cut off so abruptly it caused a whiplash effect, slamming the euphoria out of his body. The car fell quiet and he sagged boneless in his seat, feeling his heart pound against his ribcage. If not for the Orbo counteracting the effects of his craft, it would reach critical mass. If that were to happen, he knew the hunter would fast become the hunted.

 

Keep it together. Come on, keep it together. You've come this far. You can't lose it now. You can't let them see you like this…they need you. They're counting on you to be strong.

 

It took a Herculean effort to reign in his craft when it got the better of him like this. But years of surviving the maelstrom had taught him how to repress and how to bury. Once the worst of it passed, the remainder of his tattered emotions could be balled up like a piece of discarded paper and shoved down into the deepest, darkest recesses of his tortured soul. Ignore, deny, and eventually the pain subsides. Rub a patch of skin in the same place enough times and a callous will form. Attack a person's spirit, and the same thing will happen. Besides, who could ever want a used up, barren person like himself? And to be a Seed on top of it all only devalued any worth he might have had.

 

The sudden, warm memory of laughing violet eyes floated in his mind's eye. Sakaki, despite everything he had done or more to the point, not done, still extended his hand in friendship. The teen had been surprised about his revelations, but had not recoiled in horror as he anticipated. That reaction had been causing a curious side effect since the other night. Amon tried to ignore the growing fire of what one might call affection in his belly that seemed to be happening with an alarming frequency. This new fondness for the rookie hunter was dangerous. He couldn't allow it to grow. No good could possibly come from it.

 

The sleek black sports car groaned and complained a few times as he turned the key in the ignition, but eventually the engine kicked over with a loud roar. With his face as impassive as always, he fastidiously ignored the scorch marks on the vinyl steering wheel cover and headed back to Raven's Flat.

 

~*~*

 

“Here you go.”

 

Michael looked up at Sakaki's face and then down to the outstretched hand offering him a steaming mug of coffee. “Thanks,” he said taking the mug in both hands. He noted the fresh scrapes on Sakaki's knuckles as he withdrew. It didn't surprise him. He was just grateful he didn't have to witness it. One violent outburst was enough for an evening.

 

“Amon is on his way over,” his lover informed him.

 

Michael snorted cynically, not bothering to look up from watching the coffee swirling around inside the mug. He had yet to take a sip and was content to just hold it in his hands and absorb the heat that it radiated. He was so cold. The hot shower did nothing to warm him and sitting here now, with the comforter wrapped around his body like a cocoon, the chill had yet to subside.

 

“What?” Sakaki asked, sounding a little defensive. His hand stalled in the motion of bringing his own mug up to his lips.

 

Michael shook his head and then sighed. “Why did you bother him? It's not like there's anything he could do.” He didn't bother to look up; he could feel weight of the other teen's gaze on him.

 

“Do you want me to call him back and tell him not to come?”

 

Michael sighed again. He didn't know what he wanted anymore. All he could say for certain was that he didn't want to live like this anymore. There was fleeting moment earlier in the bathroom, where he gave serious consideration to his only other alternative. That scared him. Sakaki hadn't even entered his mind and he was probably the only person who would truly grieve the hacker's death. For those few seconds he was willing to throw it all away just to escape and finally be at peace.

 

Another chill racked his body. It was time they all faced facts. This wasn't going to work. Whatever Amon had up his sleeve to get them into Zaizen's office wasn't going to work; they were fools to believe that they could pull this off. Zaizen would catch them, he would find out. And when he did, footage of them or no, that bastard would have them all. He was never going to get out of this cage. And now he was going to have to watch Sakaki go through it, too.

 

It felt like he had swallowed a thousand razor blades two nights ago in Zaizen's office, when he was forced to sit quietly and watch his lover give Amon a blowjob. He had raged so fiercely on the inside. There were so many thoughts and emotions swirling around like a tornado and at its eye, such hateful disgust for the man orchestrating it all. But despite the torrent, he still sat there, impotent and useless and watched his lover choke and gag his way through the act while he complied with the depraved command. He supposed that any normal person's reaction would have had an edge of jealousy to it, but thinking back on it now, Michael could only remember the look of absolute misery on Amon's face. It was an expression he was all too familiar with. He'd seen that look staring back at him in the mirror for what seemed like an eternity now.

 

“Hey, where did you go?” Sakaki said and brushed a cool hand across his forehead. Michael flinched.

 

“Nowhere. I was just thinking.” He pushed his lover's caring fingers away with the back of his hand. He couldn't stand to be touched right now.

 

Sakaki stepped closer, this time placing a hand on Michael's shoulder and squeezing gently. “What's the matter?”

 

The redhead leaned forward to place the untouched mug on the nightstand. His stomach was churning like a stormy sea. The thought of putting anything in it made his gag reflex tickle.

 

“Come on, talk to me. What's wrong?” Sakaki tried again.

 

“Nothing…everything.” Michael slumped down and covered his face with his hands. His breath hitched a few times and he thought he was going to lose it and give into the rising grief, but he managed to hold them back. “All of it, Haruto,” he said as he dropped his hands into his lap. “Every, single moment of my life since I came here has been some fucking private reality show and I hate it. Every time I dressed or showered…brushed my teeth, jerked off…he could have been watching me. Or better yet, he could have sent it out to all his friends.” He gestured wildly with his hands in an imitation of an infomercial spokesman holding up a product. “Hey, everyone, look at Zaizen's pretty, new pet. It slices, it dices, and it juliennes. Watch for yourselves, ladies and gentlemen, as a once happy teenager breaks down before your very eyes.” Angry blue eyes sought out pale violet. Sakaki's eyes were rounded with surprise. Michael's fake smile fell from his face. “Do you have any idea how that feels?”

 

Sakaki moved to sit down on the bed next to Michael, arm reaching out to wrap around the smaller teen's shoulder. Michael shrugged off the comforting gesture and twisted around to remove himself from the embrace.

 

“Don't touch me,” the redhead said flatly.

 

Sakaki withdrew sullenly. “What's with you? I'm trying to be supportive here.”

 

Exasperated, Michael snapped, “I just don't want to be touched right now. Is that okay with you? God…” Ignoring the pain flaring in the lower half of his body, he flung himself face down into the pillows.

 

Michael had not felt so off-kilter in a long time. It was like watching the world through a fun house mirror. Just when he thought he had scratched out a small measure of happiness for himself, something to look forward to, a reason to drag himself out of the bed in the morning, Zaizen managed to find a way to take that from him, too. Michael held his breath to suppress a sob. Too many tears had already been shed over his pathetic existence, his tear ducts should have dried up a long time ago. But when they did come, it was almost a surprise each time that he could still gather up enough pride to actually cry them.

 

He's taken everything already. How much more does he want? I don't have anything left to give. There's nothing left, even for Haruto.

 

They didn't speak after that. Michael didn't even want to look at his lover right now. He couldn't bear to see the heartache he knew would be written across that beautiful face. The strength to offer comfort, even for himself, was gone. Sakaki sat, unmoving, at the foot of the bed with his back against the cold stone wall. Anger and helplessness radiated off the other teen and Michael did his best to ignore it. He was content to hide his face in the pillows and let the linen absorb his despondent tears.

 

The minutes ticked away, marked by the steady dripping of the showerhead in the bathroom. They had forgotten to tighten the faucet after they attempted to wash away Zaizen's taint from their bodies. He supposed the moment when he completely broke down into hysterics, screaming like a deranged madman, had been enough of a distracter for both of them. The new emotional lows never ceased to amaze him. Drip. Drip. Drip. That was the sound of all the hope he managed to gather swirling down the drain. Drip…drip…drip… As annoying as the sound was in the intolerable silence, neither boy seemed willing to get up and shut it.

 

The constant nagging sensation that he was an anchor around Sakaki's neck continued to burrow into Michael's mind. It was a poisonous truth, but the truth nonetheless. His involvement with the hot-headed blond was only going to see the other teen dragged down into Zaizen's perverted games. The episode earlier tonight had only been a confirmation of that fact.

 

Perhaps it's time to cut him loose. I can't let him become like me. I'd rather have him hate me and be safe, then stay here and get hurt because he loves me. God, I don't want to lose him, but he'd never be able to deal with it, and his sister…I can't let an innocent girl get pulled into this mess. I'm so sorry, Haruto. Staying by my side will only get you hurt in the process. I'm not worth it anyway. You deserve someone better, someone not as…dirty. I know you won't understand, but please kn--

 

It was almost a relief when Amon's voice called out from the end of the hall to alert them of his presence. It temporarily stopped the pity party the young hacker was throwing for himself. Both boys sat up when the older man entered, but still didn't make eye contact with each other. As Michael nodded to the man, he noticed the wild look in Amon's eyes. Their team leader didn't look disheveled…exactly. His hair was a bit tousled, but otherwise, he looked fine for someone summoned out of…wherever Amon went when he wasn't at work. But the eyes were different. Black pupils were dilated to the point that only a thin ring of hazel could be seen surrounding them. Amon looked wired, like he just had ten cups of the high-octane, double espressos from Harry's. What had he been up to before he came here?

 

“What's wrong?” Amon asked after taking in each boy's appearance in turn.

 

Michael almost scoffed at the question. He felt like he should be the one asking, not the other way around.

 

“I thought I explained that on the phone,” Sakaki whined as he rose from the bed.

 

The tall man leveled the blonde with a frustrated look. “Not that, I meant with the two of you…right now. Something seems off.”

 

“Oh,” Sakaki said, agitation deflating, and shot a nervous glance at his boyfriend. “It's nothing. Just coming off a rough night, ya know?”

 

Amon looked to Michael for confirmation. “Are you alright?”

 

The redhead shrugged dejectedly. “I'll live, but I'm getting real tired of this…real fucking tired.”

 

“I know, but we'll get though it, you'll see.” Sakaki once again tried to move in and put an arm around his shoulders, and once again, Michael shifted away.

 

“Will you knock it off,” he snapped, pushing the blonde away with enough force to let him know he meant business. “I don't need your fucking pity right now. It's done. Game over. He's won, don't you two see that?”

 

“Michael,” Sakaki sighed and the boy in question covered his ears with his fists and buried his face in his forearms to drown out the sound of the other's voice.

 

“A phone call,” he growled, voice muffled behind his arms. “All it took was a phone call for him to mess with us. He pulled the string from miles away and we danced like puppets for his entertainment.” Bloodshot blue eyes looked up at the two men standing before him. “We can't fight that kind of power.”

 

His lover tried again. “Michael, please don't give up. Don't let him--“

 

Michael cut him off with an acerbic tone. “Do you like performing live sex shows on demand, Haruto?”

 

“What…I…of course not! I—“

 

“That's what it will be. He'll make you do all sorts of stuff to me, him…Amon and god knows who else. You'll be at his beck and call. Get out while you still can…for your own safety.”

 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Clearly confused and taken aback, Sakaki moved to stand in front of the distressed teen. Learning from the other times, he didn't try and touch the other. “What's wrong? I try to touch you and you pull away. I want help. What can I do, Michael? How can I make you feel better?”

 

The redhead snorted sarcastically, eyes sliding shut as he shook his head slowly in disbelief. Ever the knight in shining armor. “Want to help me, Haruto?” he said without looking up. “Walk out of this room and never look back.”

 

There was a flash of motion out of the corner of his eye and Michael found himself being hauled up by the front of his shirt before his mind could catch up. Pain flared bright and brilliant in the lower half of his body as he was unceremoniously dragged onto his feet and into the face of one irate Haruto Sakaki.

 

“God damn it, Michael! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” the blonde hissed, giving the smaller boy a shake to punctuate his anger.

 

Amon appeared suddenly between the two. He grabbed hold of one of Sakaki's wrists and placed his other palm flat against the boy's chest, attempting to intercede and separate them. “Stop it, both of you.”

 

Sakaki ignored him completely, focusing solely on the widened blue eyes staring back at him. “Don't let him win. He doesn't own you…please, Michael…”

 

Michael recovered from his initial surprise at his lover's aggression and narrowed his eyes. “You don't own me either,” he spat. When Sakaki's expression turned incredulous, he added, “What? Are you going to hit me, too? Smack me around until I do everything your way?”

 

With a hard shove, Amon pushed the distraught teen back a few steps and cradled the redhead in the crook of one arm. “That's enough.”

 

“I can't let him do this to himself, Amon,” Sakaki whined angrily.

 

“You can't do anything to change it!” Michael yelled back. In the end, the oppressive shame won out over the quick burst of rage and he slumped, resigned to his fate, into Amon's half-embrace. The taller man caught him around the waist and helped him back down onto the bed. “None of us can…we're trapped, he has us all…”

 

“Michael…” Amon whispered solemnly.

 

Zaizen's reach stretched across the miles that separated them. Michael felt the taint that nothing short of sandblasting could remove, staining his skin. An artic chill climbed up his spine. He just wanted to be left alone. Amon and Sakaki's presence were anything but comforting at this moment. As hard and as much as he wanted to melt into his lover's warm embrace and pretend that all this was just a bad dream, sending him away was for the best. “Take him home, Amon,” he said tiredly.

 

“What? No!” Sakaki protested and took a step closer to the bed. Amon held his hand out to motion him to stop.

 

“Sakaki, wait outside in the control room for me.”

 

“Fuck that, Amon. I'm not going anywhere. I know what you're trying to do, Michael and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you just--“

 

“Now, Sakaki!” Amon barked using his authoritative, team leader voice and sealed the deal with that do-what-I-say-now glare of his. The blonde balked and immediately backed down. Michael couldn't blame him. Amon was quite the ominous presence when he wanted to be.

 

Now furious, the blonde stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. A few moments later, a loud bang and the muted sound of breaking glass could be heard from just down the hall. Michael exhaled a shaky breath when there was silence once again.

 

“Look at me,” Amon demanded.

 

Michael flinched at the harsh command. This was the last thing that the hacker wanted. He'd been on the receiving end of one of Amon's lectures before and he wasn't exactly in the best of moods at this moment in time. Hearing about everything he's done wrong up to this point or how he should be going about things might possibly be the final straw for his already fractured resolve. Timidly, he met the older man's hardened gaze.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Michael's eyebrows rose slightly. That was most definitely not what he had been expecting. “I can't stand by and watch him get hurt,” he replied flatly.

 

Amon leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. “That's not what I asked, Michael. Is this what you want—to give in and let Zaizen win?”

 

The redhead's eyes narrowed at the accusatory tone. “You have no right to be lecturing me, Amon. You let him abuse you for years. So, why now? How come you didn't try to stop him back in the beginning or before he came after me? Why do we suddenly have to be your champions for justice?”

 

Amon showed his clear displeasure at the question by pursing his lips together. There was a second or two where Michael thought he might actually get an answer, but in typical Amon fashion, he evaded with, “Is this what you want?”

 

NO! Of course this isn't what I want. It's because of me that Haruto is in this predicament to begin with. I was greedy. I wanted something for myself and look what I did. I let that…that monster touch him. And damn you, Amon with that fucking cool as a cucumber attitude. How? How could you be that man's whore and still not show it on your face? I wish I knew. Then it wouldn't be so hard to let Haruto touch me in the same way.

 

“I don't know what I want anymore, Amon.” He raked his hand roughly through his spiky hair. “I know that I can't…I can't watch another repeat of the other night and I don't think I can stomach another command performance.”

 

“Then, fight,” the other man stated simply. “If you give up now, he'll do whatever it takes to break Sakaki. You know he will. Maybe if you're lucky you won't have to watch or be forced to participate in it, but could you really do that to someone you supposedly love?”

 

“If I'm not with him anymore, then Zaizen will lose interest in him!” Michael roared; the frustration and exhaustion making him incredibly volatile. Amon gave him a disparaging look.

 

“You can't honestly believe that. It's too late. He already has his sites set on him and we both know what that means.” Amon's voice became deadly serious. “It's only a matter of time before he has your boyfriend bent over that desk.”

 

The mental image that conjured up made Michael's stomach do a somersault. He swallowed heavily against the bile rising in his throat. This was all so confusing. What should he do to protect his lover? What could he do? The fear was becoming too overwhelming. He wasn't capable of dealing with this—not now, not ever. He just want to crawl someplace, dark and deep, where he could hide away from his worries and pretend like it all never happened.

 

“Are you scared?” Amon asked, perceptive as ever. Michael didn't respond, but his widened eyes were enough of an answer for the older man to continue. “That's how he controls us—through fear. It's alright to be afraid. God knows he's used it against me countless times, but there comes a time when we have to face it and not let the fear have power of us.” Amon stepped closer to the bed and his voice dropped to a husky whisper. “For too long I let him have power over me. And for too long I stood in the shadows and watched him do the same to you. I hate myself for it, Michael. I hate that I did nothing to help you, but do not fool yourself into thinking that Zaizen will let Sakaki walk away if you turn your back on him. I am not about to let that happen again.”

 

Clearly surprised, the hacker just stared at the somber man before him. In the few years he had worked along side of this man, never had he witnessed, nor expected such a display of devotion. Amon was a reticent, emotionally bleak team leader he had come to have a tenuous working relationship with. The person who stood in front of him now was a stranger. Whatever impression he had garnered from his time spent with Amon; he had never been proven so gloriously wrong before. The man had more facets than a diamond and was skilled at keeping his business his own. Just when Michael thought he had the other man pegged, he was quickly shown just how much he didn't know Amon at all.

 

Michael shook his head with a wry smile twisting one corner of his mouth. “When did you become so open and chatty?”

 

“Thank your boyfriend for that,” the other man said sardonically.

 

“Yeah, he does have a way of getting people to open up.” With another deep exhale, he asked, “I don't have any other choice, do I?”

 

Amon nodded. “Look, I understand what you're going through, to a certain extent, but I can't….” He paused, brow furrowed in thought, as he attempted to put into words what he was feeling. Shaking off whatever his original notion had been, he started again. “I only know what I see, and what I see is that you need him as much as he needs you.”

 

Michael opened his mouth to retort, but Amon cut him off. “Don't look for all the answers now. We have to be careful and we have to stay sharp…look for all possible angles. We need your help in this. I made you a promise and I plan on seeing it though.” He halted for a few beats before he asked in a serious voice, “Do you trust me?”

 

Trust was something that Michael didn't give away as freely as he once did. Not since that fateful night in Zaizen's office when all that he was and all that he could have been, was stripped from him like meat from a bone. The void left in his soul was as bottomless as the ocean. That was until a new recruit with a mop of shaggy, dirty-blonde hair, an infectious smile, and the most amazing lavender-colored eyes Michael had ever seen started to draw him out and back into the light. Looking back now made him wonder why Sakaki never gave up after he did everything he could to test the other boy and make him prove his sincerity time and time again. But Sakaki never left. No matter what horrible things he said or how many times they fought, the blonde always came back. Could he place that level of trust in Amon?

 

Michael sighed heavily. “I do trust you, Amon. It's just that I—“

 

Amon raised his hand to cut him off mid-sentence once again. “Good, because I won't betray that, and you know that Sakaki won't either. You don't need resort to these kinds of drastic measures.” The expression on his face changed from stern to what Michael thought might be something resembling compassion, but the words were forced and stilted. “Besides, you and I both know how much it would kill the two of you if you separated.”

 

Michael cringed a little at the offhanded comment. What Amon said was true, but…but something was different now. Something had been changing inside him since Zaizen had first discovered his relationship with the other teen. His feelings for Sakaki had been…altered. He couldn't describe the feeling any better than that. Perhaps Amon could shed some light on this. After all, he was most likely the only person who could possibly comprehend what he was living through.

 

“He loves you,” the dark-haired man stated plainly.

 

Michael looked down at his lap and after a worn out sigh, whispered, “I know, but that doesn't change the fact that it's all different now. I can't…I can't be with him anymore.” He regretted the choice of words as soon as they slipped off his tongue. Amon blinked at him in what might be construed as surprise.

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“I….” he started, but cut himself off. Slouching further into himself, he mumbled an embarrassed, “Never mind.”

 

Amon stepped over to the bed. The older man's long bangs shadowed his eyes in the soft light of the small desk lamp as he stared down at the boy. It made him look twice as menacing as usual. “No, it sounds like you have something to say. Were you lying before? Are you hurt?”

 

Keeping his eyes averted, Michael answered, “No, not really. No more than before.”

 

“Then what's different? What could have possibly changed?” Amon appeared to be genuinely puzzled.

 

“It's…I…you know what he made me do, right?” The other man nodded. “Forcing myself like that felt—“ Michael's voice cracked. He had to swallow the boulder in his throat before he was able to continue. “It felt like being with him. I mean, I guess it was him, only he was masking himself as someone that actually means something to me. God, just thinking about it makes me want to puke. I don't know if I can--”

 

“Stop right there.” Amon interrupted. “Are you trying to tell me that that's the reason you were trying to run Sakaki out of here?”

 

“He's better off without me.” Once again, he tried to keep his voice steady, but it still wavered like he was on the verge of tears.

 

“I don't fucking believe this,” Amon said through an exasperated sigh. There was the loud swish a trench coat and Michael flinched, thinking he was about to be struck. The hit never came. Instead, the bed shifted with the other's weight and he was pulled into an awkward embrace.

 

“Amon? Wha…what are you doing?” He gasped. The redhead resisted immediately and tried to pull back, but the gentle hand on the back of his head held him firmly against a broad chest.

 

“Hugging you,” Amon's baritone voice rumbled in his ear. “Am I…doing it wrong?”

 

Despite his shock at the somber man's sudden gesture, the child-like uncertainty in his voice put the hacker at ease. “No, you're doing fine.”

 

Michael allowed himself to relax into the other body. It was strange being held so tenderly by someone other than Sakaki. Not a bad sensation per se, just different. And Amon smelled so good. The traces of cologne identified it as an expensive brand. He was no connoisseur, but it was a subtle scent with no overpowering alcohol smell. As his earlier feelings of hopelessness and inadequacy ebbed, he was unexpectedly glad to have Amon here. Having to explain everything to his lover was more effort than it was worth most times. At least he didn't have to do that now. Amon knew. Amon would always know and that was a connection he could never have with Sakaki.

 

“You're stronger than this, you know?” Amon whispered. Michael tensed, surprised by the weight of those words, and tried to push back, but strong arms held him steadfast. “You're one of the strongest people I've ever met. Remember that.” And with that, Amon let go and rose from the bed.

 

Michael was at a loss for words. Me…strong? How could be possibly think that I'm strong? I've been nothing but a pushover, a fucking doll for Zaizen and *I'm* strong?

 

“Rest now, tomorrow is when the real work begins,” Amon said as he walked towards the door. When he reached the threshold, he turned back to the boy on the bed. “I'll take him home, don't worry.”

 

“Thanks,” he said, but when he looked up, Amon was already gone.

 

How typical of their team leader to breeze in, say something profound, and then disappear like a ninja. Michael chuckled at the oddity of it all, but he knew the other man would look after his excitable lover. Who better to explain what he was feeling than someone who knew exactly what he was going though. The only thing left for him to do was to decide if this was really all worth it. And despite how low he felt, he already knew the answer to that. For now, he could try and live up to this supposed strength Amon saw in him. Haruto was the best thing that ever happened to him. For that reason alone he could do his best and try to get them all out of this hell. If it didn't work out in the end, there was always that bottle of pills under the bathroom sink. Not the most acceptable solution, but he didn't really see any other options if their breaking and entering scheme failed.

 

Picking up his comforter off the cold cement floor, Michael carefully lowered himself onto his bed. Once settled into a position that didn't hurt, he reached over to switch off the lamp on his nightstand. Despite the near pitch black of the room, he still felt like he was in an aquarium with a thousand eyes on him, watching his every move. What if there was more than the one camera Sakaki found and destroyed? Zaizen might be aware of what they were going to do. A spike of panic seized his lungs.

 

He'll kill me…he'll kill me for sure.

 

Despite the certainty of that outcome, it was too late now. There was no turning back. Michael just hoped they had enough time to set their plan in motion or things were going to get a hell of a lot worse for all of them.

 

“Hope you enjoyed the show, asshole,” he said to the empty room and then pulled the covers over his head.

 

 

TBC……..

 

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Yes, I'm back. Thanks to all of you out there who have been reading, reviewing, and putting up with the long waits between chapters. I hope to have the next chapter out soon-ish, so don't lose hope. As always, feedback is never demanded, but always appreciated.