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It’s raining outside. The drops hit the windshield softly, only to be brushed away. This process continues endlessly, and the sound of the rain mixes with the traffic as the vehicle drives by other cars. It is a kind of silence that, in other circumstances, you would’ve embraced tenderly. But, not today.
The driver spares a glance through the rearview mirror, but focuses on the road once again. His hold on the wheel is light, but you can see his fists clench occasionally, as if anticipating something to happen. You meet his gaze eventually, and you aren’t sure of what he sees in your face but you’d be willing to bet it was anything but pleasant. He flinches and looks back at the road, his back now straight.
From the corner of your eye, you can see a foot tapping angrily, as it rests on top of the other knee. You purposefully avoid turning to see to whom it belongs, although you know exactly who the person is. Just like the driver, you are trying to avoid confrontation.
It’s the last thing you need, right now.
But, as your heart races and as you begin to tap your index finger against your arm, both crossed over each other, your frown deepens. After all, he doesn’t have the right to be upset — at least, not as upset as he is. And, in your defense, what you had done — or nearly did — was clearly justified. You knew the driver would have agreed with you, although he would surely pull the other’s leg in the process as well.
You’re still relatively new to this whole “criminal” business. You still don’t know how to think that quickly on your feet, not to mention how to pull off traps as if it was nothing.
You’re drifting in your thoughts, when the car rounds a corner, driving through an older street, still made out of cobblestone. The car is slower this time, to avoid further damages, and after three beats, it stops. The driver turns off the engine, after staring through the mirror once again, and exits the car.
The man next to you, in the backseat, exits just as quickly, and you huff a sigh before following both men’s examples.
‘Well, here we are,’ Lupin grins as he shuts the door. ‘Nothing like home sweet home, huh?’ He looks between you two, searching for some sort of smile or even a scoff at his playful nature. But, there is none. Instead, Jigen continues on his way upstairs, without sparing you a look over his shoulder.
Lupin’s smile twitches. ‘Well, I’ll just… go ahead and take our bags.’ As he rounds you to unlock the trunk, your eyes don’t waver off the stairs, or where the gunman once stood. You stare for a moment or two, ignoring how Lupin’s gaze every now and then burns on your back. You don’t need to hear him speak to know exactly what he’s thinking.
The last thing he needs right now is for his partners to fight and further damage the alliance between the three of them—
I was never part of the gang. I’m just a temporary asset , you correct your own thoughts. It’s always been the two of them, and that’s it.
Still, you take a deep breath and begin to march up those stairs, the wood creaking beneath your feet. The door of the hideout is still unlocked, and you push it open as you look around the living room. As you suspected, the gunman sits on the couch, his hand already pulling away from within his jacket, a pack of cigarettes in his hand. Unlike how you usually see him, he sits with his elbows on top of his knees, lighting the cigarette as the shade of the fedora conceals his face.
Yet, you can practically feel the dark scowl that has glued itself on his face. The negativity and hostility radiates off him like heat radiates from a pleasant and cozy fireplace.
The way you approach the couch is nothing but cautious. Slow steps as if you are approaching an unstable prey, trying not to scare it off. Or, rather, in this case, you are the one who’s scared of invoking the ire of an unpredictable beast. In truth, you have never seen Jigen angry.
You have — towards Lupin and his tendencies, as well as his history and relationship with Mine Fujiko. But, you have never been the target or source of his anger.
He tilts his head, ever so slightly, and you can’t help but think that the sudden tightness around his cigarette is not something your head has just imagined. You think — and you feel -- it is intentional, a reflex. His lips curl downwards even further, and your eyebrows twitch, threatening to show off your own rage. But, unlike him, you are trying to keep it cool.
‘Can I help you?’ The question is anything but selfless and genuine. The growl around the words doesn’t go unnoticed and you straighten your back.
‘Look, I know you’re…,’ you draw out and pause to take a deep breath. ‘Upset.’ He scoffs, reaching over the coffee table to tap his cigarette against the ashtray. The motion is anything but gentle and graceful. He is trying to keep it cool, too, you realize, but his temperament has always been too short.
‘You don’t say,’ is his sarcastic reply.
‘ But ,’ you raise your voice slightly, ‘I was only trying to do the right thing. You need to understand that.’
He leans over, elbows on his knees. ‘“The right thing”, you say? That didn’t look like the right thing.’
You nearly flinch, and the memory plays back so effortlessly in your mind.
There was a man in front of you. Hands stretched out in your direction and a wicked smirk on his face. You remember the sound of engines and fans, covering the urgent grunts and yells. And, you remember the way your blood rushed through your veins, how your eyes swam between the man’s foot and a hand that gripped tightly onto the edge of the building.
Whatever words left the man’s mouth, they were nearly ignored. Or rather, in the distressed state that you were, you couldn’t hear them. Your attention was only on that hand, the memory of a bullet wound and blood, and what you could possibly do to save him .
That was your only concern.
That was your sole motive .
There were documents in your hand — maps, reports, historical pieces. They were clues that were to lead you and the group to your goal, an incredibly rich treasure. How did the man know you were the one holding onto those papers? You didn’t know. And, why did Lupin think you were worthy of carrying them in your possession? You didn’t know.
It was those documents or Jigen’s life.
For you, the answer was clear to see.
It was as if you had disassociated from your own body, as you gave the man the papers and as he walked away without looking back. This was too easy , you thought and you rushed forward to help your partner up, only for him to dismiss it — dismiss you .
‘What did you expect me to do?’ The question blurts out of your lips before you can stop it, as well as the venom embedded in those words. ‘Did you want me to leave you there to die? Choose a treasure over your life?’
He takes a deep inhale of the cigarette and, from the silence, you begin to think that he understands where you’re coming from. Your arms begin to fall back to your sides, after your outburst, and that is when he slams the head of the cigarette against the ashtray, putting it out in an instance. He scoffs, ‘The fact that you were willing to give everything away—’
‘As if I had a choice!’ You interrupt, and you’re feeling angrier by the second. For a moment, you had believed he would be on your side; instead, he dismisses your reasoning and, instead, he focuses on whatever is rushing through his brain.
In a way, you’d agree with him. You did give away everything to your enemy. But, Lupin didn’t react as badly as you. In fact, he was just as concerned as you were for the gunman, who refused assistance with the wound on his shoulder — too close to his heart.
You know how he is about trust and betrayal — you have seen it, and you have heard it.
But, this is wrong . This is beyond his distrustful nature, and more about being selfish and paranoid when he shouldn’t be. Why can’t he understand?
You continue, ‘I was just trying to save you! Why can’t you see that?’
‘I didn’t need your help,’ he says. It sounds like nothing but pure denial. You wouldn’t expect this kind of comment, this kind of arrogance, from him. Perhaps, from the cat burglar herself. But, him? ‘I didn’t need it then, and I don’t need it now. For all I know, you’re a selfish woman who’s been siding with the enemy this whole time.’
You roll your eyes with a scoff. ‘Oh, I’m selfish ?’ You ignore the other comment, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. It’s his trust issues speaking, you try to reason. But, to accuse you of siding with the enemy, simply because you gave those documents up in exchange for his life? Lupin, of all people, has always been a step ahead of everyone; if you were really a traitor, wouldn’t he have already done something about it? ‘You really want to talk about that? You , of all people?’
If he wants your thoughts on this situation, if he wants to know how you really feel, then you’ll give them to you. You’ll give him the same amount of venom that keeps spilling out of his mouth.
‘You don’t know me,’ he raises from his seat. His tone has grown colder. ‘Stop acting like you do.’
‘Maybe I don’t. Maybe, I really don’t know you.’ He begins to walk away, and you scoff, throwing your arms up and looking over your shoulder as if expecting to find some unknown observer, who watches the scene play out. ‘Oh, and now he’s turning his back on me. Wonderful. Real mature.’
He stops suddenly in his tracks. ‘I’d rather rot in hell than spend another minute listening to your poor excuses.’ Jigen whips his head in your direction. For a moment, you catch a glimpse of his eyes — narrowed, dangerous . ‘You want to know why you’re still here? Because Lupin sees something in you. But, you’re not as special as you believe yourself to be, darling. ’
It’s as if your heart dropped into your stomach; you take a deep breath upon hearing his words, as if that was your last gasp for air, the only pillar that would keep you from falling apart. You hadn’t worked so hard on yourself — to become an unstoppable and emotionally distant force — just to have one man tear you apart.
So, you decide to walk away. It’s not as if there is anything else for you to do. Your job is done.
‘And just where do you think you’re going?’ Jigen says as you grab your coat, left by the entrance. You adjust it rather roughly, unable to conceal the anger. And, for a moment, it crosses your mind to tell him to mind his own business, to let him know that you wouldn’t sit around and let a man destroy the character you’ve built up for years. And, you want to slap him, most of all.
How dare he? It keeps echoing.
Instead, you keep your mouth shut and you march right out of that living room, nearly bumping into Lupin on the way out, who jumps a couple of steps backwards, eyes wide. You can’t possibly care less to know whether or not he had been eavesdropping on the conversation. Whatever partnership there is — it’s over. You’d let him know when your head is cooler.
The rain is freezing cold, but you ignore it, even if your hair has started to become wet. Even if your clothes were to stick uncomfortably to your body, you wouldn’t stop. Maybe, this is running away, but you have your reasons and there is nobody that can tell you whether or not they are reasonable or valid.
Isn’t a partnership meant to honor your deal? To work together as a team for better or worse, until everyone got what they wanted? Whatever happened to honor among thieves ? Surely, of all people, he would—
‘Fuck this,’ you murmur under your breath, shutting off your train of thoughts. You stick your hands inside the pockets of your coat as you walk down the cobblestone path. Nobody is outside at this godforsaken hour, under this terrible weather, and, for a moment, you are thankful. You cannot bear seeing anyone in front of you, because you want to be alone. For a moment, you want the entire world to disappear, even if it means you are its sole habitant.
As you approach the bridge, however, in your right pocket, you feel something.
You pause in your tracks to pull whatever it is out, and you stare blankly at the communicator inside your hand, even though your heart rages inside your chest. Then, you bite your lower lip, raise your arm and, with a snarl, throw the communicator against the floor, watching the device break into tiny pieces. You wouldn’t need that anymore. You dig your foot into the biggest piece, hearing it crack under your weight. ‘Fuck this ,’ you repeat, before continuing on your way.
There are stairs on the side of the bridge, which let you go to the wharf. You decide to go down those stairs, seeking solitude. The platform is long enough to reach the parallel end of the bridge, to your left, hence the middle is completely dry, protected by the bridge. You get under the bridge, huffing as the rain finally stops hitting your body, even if the cold remains and you are unable to get rid of it without a newer, warmer coat.
You sit on the ground, leaning your back against the stonewall of the bridge, and you close your eyes. In this silence and darkness, you pull your knees to chest to cage the little warmth you have left and begin to ponder about your next move. Indeed, you will have to tell Lupin that you will no longer work with them. If they don’t want traitors — as Jigen has called you — then you would leave.
I have betrayed no one , you tell yourself. No one, but myself.
From the very start, you had been unsure about this partnership. Not that you and Jigen clashed often, not that you had any issues with Lupin or any other member of the gang, but you knew, deep down, that something would go wrong. Either by the enemy’s hand, the Cat Burglar’s hand, or…
You don’t remember anymore why you were so hesitant, but what has happened has confirmed your suspicions. The treasure has been lost — lost to an enemy to whom you have willingly handed the papers with the location and further details about the treasure. This month, there would be no paycheck.
‘I probably deserve this,’ you whisper into the shadows. ‘I mean, I did ruin the heist.’ You drop your head into your hands, groaning. ‘And we were so close…!’
You don’t know for how long you stay there. The scene just keeps repeating over and over in your head — when was the last time you were so emotional over a heist, over someone? — and you cannot make it go away.
‘So, tell me, little bird,’ the man in front of you purrs, gun pointed straight at the head of your newest partner. Jigen grunts when his foot steps onto his hand, desperately trying to hold onto the platform. The engines of the airplane seem to get louder and louder, as you remember where one of them is.
Right under Jigen.
You clench the papers in your hand tightly.
His smile widens. ‘This can go one of two ways.’ He tilts his head. ‘You can give those papers to me, those papers that contain the information about my treasure, and we can all wrap this up and head home. I’m sure you’d like that, hm?’
The enemy steps harder onto Jigen’s hand, suddenly, and you hear the gunman yell out, another hand reaching for the platform. ‘Or, you can say goodbye to your beloved partner.’ He glances over his shoulder at the fan below. ‘It would be quite thrilling to watch someone being torn into tiny pieces by such a powerful engine. Perhaps, a rain of blood would ensue?’ He shrugs, teeth now showing. ‘I wouldn’t mind the show, in case you’re wondering. It would just be one less pest to deal with.’
‘Don’t listen to him!’ Jigen shouts over him, and the man pauses, the smile falling from his face, as he slowly turns to listen to him.
‘Hm,’ there is a scoff. ‘This little man thinks he has a choice. No, no… because it all depends on you.’ His eyes are on you, now, and you shiver. ‘You decide how this goes. Either you hand me the papers, or it’s all over for him.’
Just like that, you decided. You made a choice, and, although a part of you is insanely relieved to know that Jigen has escaped a quite eventful death, you now deal with the aftermath of the heist. A storm of conflict looms over your head and over your heart.
Something is approaching you.
The sound of footsteps grows louder and louder, and you quickly raise your head, remaining otherwise still. Your left hand reaches for your gun, out of reflex. Trust no one . It’s when he rounds the corner that you freeze and your mouth dries up.
Jigen looks down at your sitting form, lips turned downwards in that infamous frown of his. He doesn’t say anything in the beginning, and the two of you just stare at each other. He adjusts his hat, head turning towards the river. ‘...Can I sit?’
You narrow your eyes at him, unable to mask your confusion and — if you’re being honest — uneasiness .
‘Sure,’ you say. ‘It’s not like I own this place.’
The man is silent; at least, he doesn’t acknowledge your bitter tone. Then, he slowly walks up to you and sits. His shoulder doesn’t touch yours, but you shiver as if it did. He isn’t too close, but it feels as if he is. You don’t know what’s coming, and you’re afraid to ask.
Is he here to off me?
Jigen’s eyes remain firm upon the water as it flows towards the ocean. Yours, however, don’t stray away from his profile. Well, it might be hard to see in the dark, but you cannot help but stare . You don’t think you’ve been this close to him, and you admit — shamelessly so — that he is far too handsome to be true. In your opinion, of course.
‘Listen,’ his voice cuts through the air, and you flinch, feeling your face going ablaze. A quick look towards his eyes tells you he hasn’t seen you looking like a goddamn teenager, but that doesn’t make you feel embarrassed. What the hell?! ‘I… I’m sorry about what happened.’
You straighten your back against the wall. ‘About what? If you’re apologizing for what happened in the airplane—’
Jigen grumbles. ‘Well, I guess I’m sorry about that, too.’ He immediately sounds offended, as if you’d attacked him personally. He has his pride as a professional, I suppose, you think. ‘I’m referring to what happened back at the safehouse. I lost my temper.’
You sigh. ‘Well, I fucked everything up, no? I gave everything away…’ You echo his previous words, only to hesitate and then add, ‘...for you. For your life.’
‘I’m thankful for it,’ the gunman says. ‘I was too proud to admit it then, but I’ll admit it now. I can see now that you had good intentions.’ He pauses, before rubbing the back of his head. You suddenly wonder if Lupin had to talk some sense into him, before coming to search for you.
‘Good intentions that ruined the heist.’
Jigen faces you, and you hold your breath. ‘You were led by your emotions. I could see that. He could see that, and he used that weakness to his advantage.’ The way he says weakness nearly destroys you. Suddenly, he is pinning you down again with his harsh words, his honesty. You look away, unable to bear it once more. Jigen stops himself, and he sighs heavily. ‘I’m too old for this— listen , I’m glad you tried to save me.’
‘You’re welcome,’ you murmur. ‘Doesn’t change the fact that you are angry at me. Doesn’t change the fact that Lupin has lost everything he has been working towards.’
The sound of rustling catches your ear, and you glance up as Jigen adjusts his position, reaching inside his jacket. That is when you see what he holds in his hand. You blink, as he extends the papers towards you. ‘Lupin showed these to me, the moment you left.’
You hesitate to grab them at first, but, when you do and when you begin to skim through those pages, you open your mouth in surprise. ‘These are—’
‘Isabella Bird’s real entries.’
You shake your head, ‘How did you… what about what I found?’
Jigen begins to crack up a mischievous smile, ‘Turns out, when you and Lupin split to find the papers, due to the double security measures, as he inspected the papers, he realized that Bird had written two versions. One of them would lead to the treasure, the other would lead to a… realer treasure.’
‘Two versions?’ The weight on your shoulders starts to feel as if it is dissolving, disappearing. ‘But, what do you mean by a “realer treasure”?’
Those dark eyes shimmer in a split second. ‘Kin.’ Jigen nudges the papers in your hands, ‘The papers you had are going to lead that idiot in circles around Bird’s hometown, her old house and even people that she has loved. That is where her real treasure is. In the hands of her people and lovers.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ you say, a breathless chuckle leaving your lips. ‘All that…’ Anger. Hatred. Despair. ‘...confusion, only for those documents to be a fake lead?’ You shake your head. ‘And, here I thought that you were going to kill me for my failure.’
Jigen immediately straightens his body, his hands now distant, and a startled expression in his face. ‘What?’
‘Out of your own volition,’ you continue, ‘or perhaps by Lupin’s order. I guess request is a more appropriate word.’ Since the two of you see each other as nothing but partners.
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Jigen shakes his head, hand on his hat. ‘I wouldn’t kill you for some papers . Besides, Lupin always finds a way to spin the game back to his own hands. Sooner or later, we’d have the treasure regardless of that incident, and we’d have that fool right where we wanted him.’
‘If you say so,’ you hand the papers back to him into his chest. You can’t bear to carry them; not when you still feel the fake ones in your hand, not when you still have a phantom feeling where your hand has brushed against the enemy’s.
‘What’s in the past stays in the past,’ the gunman says, and Jigen stands, fixing his jacket. ‘What do you say we put this behind us? Head back to the safehouse and get out of this freezing rain?’
Your eyes turn back to him, and he stretches his hand, as he leans down slightly. You can spot a little quirk in his lips — something awkward, an attempt at being comforting. If today has taught you anything, it is that weaknesses need to be thoroughly eliminated or transformed into newer strengths. You don’t want to repeat what has happened today. Not anymore.
‘Fine,’ you finally answer, hand reaching for his. ‘Let’s get out of here.’