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It was a bright, sunny winter day in the mountains. The cabin was warm, and the dining room had a large picture window that faced a fast-moving alpine stream. Flat land spread out until distant mountain peaks, which were not so very tall, since they were close to the top of the range anyway. Pines, thick and jutting, spread out over the hills, edging the meadow surrounding the cabin.
Everything, from the tall grass to the trees, was covered in a light dusting of snow. I’d seen it come down, a fluttering of fairy dust in the moonlight—before the moon had been covered by clouds, that was. For a while in between, though, it’d been thin layers of cloud, rainbows skimming across the sky in front of the silver sphere.
I wasn’t sure how long ago that’d been. I yawned and rubbed my eyes, under my glasses, leaving my hand against my face when I was done. The thoughts slid out of my brain and I just stared at the crystal-clear stream as it went by, a glittering, effervescent ribbon in an otherwise still landscape.
Shhhhhh-tunk.
A soft sound came from behind me, off to the side.
Naaaaahwwg.
It was a sliding door, followed by a yawn.
“Oh, hey,” Jigen said, hand over his mouth. “Mornin’.”
“Morning,” I replied.
“You’re up early,” he said, making his way around the living room to my rear and over to the kitchen, at my right.
I blinked a couple of times at this, then shook my head, rubbing my eyes again. “Didn’t sleep.”
“Didn’t—” Jigen stumbled on his way over the threshold to the kitchen, cursing as he did so.
I watched him with wane smile, particularly the nice view of his backside as he stood in front of the counters rifling through the cupboards—he didn’t have a shirt on, only black cotton pants—but it quickly fell as I looked back down at my own work, strewn across the table.
Maps and pins, notes and books. Half a dozen pencils, because I kept using them as bookmarks.
“You know you’re not supposed to stay up all night,” Jigen sighed. “It makes you hard to live with.”
A side of my mouth ticked up as I stared at the books, defensively. I refused to look up, just in case he was looking at me. “I know,” I whispered.
But apparently I didn’t need to worry about that part, because he sounded distracted as he continued, his voice clearly turned away from me: “I don’t drink myself to sleep, and you don’t not sleep. That was the deal, wasn’t it?”
I swirled my hand over an eraser, twisting it like a searching compass needle. “Guess I fell off the wagon first. Sorry, man.”
“It’s okay. Sleep’s an easy thing to fix, compared to alcoholism. But why are you working so hard?” Jigen’s soft, calm baritone asked from across the way, to the sound of cabinets opening and closing, and dishes setting down. “We made two million in that haul six months ago, what’s the rush?”
I sighed and rubbed at my cheeks, and eventually just left my face in my hands. “Yeah, but split between the four of us, and then the local contractors too...it really wasn’t that much.” Especially since I took a double share so that I could pay for the setup for the next job....
“Maybe if you’re Fujiko,” Jigen said, idly. I looked over at him sharply, frowning, but he wasn’t being snide—just honest. In fact, he was giving me a rather concerned look, his hand around a coffee mug and that forearm on the counter, holding his weight. Meanwhile, his hip was cocked to one side and his other hand was resting on it. “It was Euro. I could go back to my hometown and retire on that kind of money, you know?”
His head was tipped to the side, and he shrugged. His hair was tied back in a ponytail—something he did before meals, sometimes.
Just looking at him had a way of calming me down, and I sighed. Maybe I’d had Fujiko on the brain too much; she always wound me up.
“Why don’t you?” I asked, trying to mirror his tone but not quite succeeding. It sounded a little more prickly than I would have liked, and I immediately regretted it.
Goddammit self. Go make him regret ever opening his mouth near you, why don’t you.
“What, retire?” he asked, thoughtful. He shifted his weight and crossed his arms, leaning his hips back against the counter. “Retirement’s for sissies.” Jigen crinkled his nose and shook his head, a couple of black strands of unbrushed hair falling out of his ponytail and into his face.
This, I knew, was as much wishful thinking on his part as anything. Jigen, in an ideal world, was the “die quietly surrounded by his family” type, but he’d never admit it, mostly because he didn’t have a family and had convinced himself he never would, for one reason or another. Plus, as the oldest one in the group and the one with the most machismo role, he liked acting tough, when other people were around.
But when it was just him and me, things were different. So wonderfully different.
But then other times, they were bad. Like me, he had a lot of insecurities, and some days, they bubbled to the surface, and we both just did our best to comfort them. I didn’t think I did a very good job, but I tried.
As it was, the world was not ideal and Jigen was determined to go out in a self-sacrificing blaze of romantic glory, which I could understand, but I wish he’d realize he deserved better. I was trying to get him better, in fact, but....
“Yeah, but...hitmen, you know? Do ten or twelve jobs, one each year, and you retire?” I shrugged, making it into a question.
He shrugged back and turned around to the coffee pot, getting all the ingredients in.
I pursed my lips, sure I’d hit a sore spot for him just by bringing up the term, and the memories that came with.
Dammit Lupin, just pour more salt in the wounds, you know that’s not a subject he likes discussing sober.
Silently, I went back to my research on the table; he’d talk if he wanted. And if not, I could just leave him until he’d reset, and was ready for something new. He was wonderfully reliable like that, unlike me and everyone else in my life.
The sound of buttons and grinding and filling went off, both dry and wet.
“Hitmen lead boring lives,” Jigen said, rather unexpectedly, once the noise was done. I looked over, but he was staring at his hands, which were fisted on the counter. His back was to me, and his shoulders were tense. In the morning light, some of his scars were almost glowing.
“They drink and smoke; gamble and womanize. They act tough until the boss needs ‘um, and if they’re dumb, they end up with some run-ins in between that to keep life terrifying, if not interesting. It’s a pretty empty existence. Glorious by neighborhood standards, but it’s a trick, really. You give up a lot for it.” Jigen shrugged, picked up his coffee cup, now full, and started filling it with cream. “Retirement’s cool if you can get it, but I’d rather spend my time with you.”
He paused and glanced back at me, then rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “And if I retire, I won’t get to see you much anymore.”
I smiled at that, warmly, and looked down at my hands as well. Small, nicked up, dirty with pencil lead. But ones that had created something. Had drawn people to them.
How many more days would I have like this, him and me? And Fujiko and Goemon, too? I liked them; hell, I enjoyed them, in every way. Who they were as people; the spice they brought to my days; myself in their reflection...I liked it all.
But I also knew it would never last.
Underworld work was transient. Unless you were in a gang of some sort, with blood bonds and all that, the ties you had with people were flimsy and commercial. Sometimes the bonds themselves could be sold to the highest bidder.
We didn’t have that business; we all were together in rebelling against it, and even mocking it. And yet, it wasn’t like we had a perfect system, either. It would be folly to think we did. They were here only because there was some reward for it, better than what they could get from the next person at any given time.
And Jigen, well.... He was my best friend, if I sat down and admitted it. He was my best worker too, and loyal to a fault in both aspects. But he only stayed that way because he hoped, someday, love would fall out of it.
But I wasn’t sure I could give him that. I loved him, in a way...or maybe more than a way? But I also loved Fujiko, too, much more strongly. I couldn’t give him what he wanted, at least not right now.
And we were both too cowardly to admit it.
Not that it didn’t come up. In his eyes when he looked at Fujiko and me; in his fishing for compliments when he was drunk. In his conversations with Goemon, that I’d overhear sometimes.
But at least...he was also too polite, too good at the game, to ask me for more directly.
Still, I knew it was there. And I didn’t know what to do about it. If I gave him too much, he’d get resentful of not getting it all. And if I gave him too little, he’d get resentful of that, too.
And either way, someday, he’d leave. Either we’d continue this dance forever and someone, or something, would draw him away in search of a better offer, once he was fixed enough to want one; or one day, he’d just get fed up and snap, severing all of our ties. After a great fit of rage thrown at me for never appreciating him enough and accusations of making him suffer for years, I’d never see him again...’cept maybe on the other side of the negotiation table.
Fujiko was the same way, really. We played a game and kept each other entertained, and I loved her for it. I actually, honestly loved her. But she wasn’t the settling down type, and I wasn’t what drove her wild, either. I was the friend with benefits, the place holder. I filled the needs, and by bringing her money and gems and gifts, she liked me better; my worth was higher than the others'. But someday, she’d find the man she really wanted—if she indeed loved anything more than money, which was always a question—and drop me for him. She too, I would eventually meet only on the other side of a fence.
In the end, I fixed people. I gave them a place and a purpose when they needed it; helped them figure out what they wanted and how to get it.
Unfortunately, the reward for good service was to be left behind, when they inevitably went on to greener pastures.
Because I was the person they needed when they were hurting; not the one they needed when they were well.
But it was enough for now, for me. I had projects. If I just closed my eyes and ignored a few things, I could believe that warm space in my chest whenever I thought about her, the one that made me feel whole and loving of myself and everything around me, was a requited fire.
A fire that wouldn’t just get left to burn out all by itself.
I opened my eyes and stared down at all the little notes, meticulously scribbled in margins and in yellow legal-pad diagrams over the past two days.
If I just worked hard enough, I could keep my little family together.
If I told Jigen that, though, he wouldn’t like it. He’d refute it, and what’s worse, he’d want to deal with it. But it wouldn’t change anything. It’d just bring up conversations I wasn’t ready to have, and which I knew would just go all wrong.
The smallest hint of how I really felt would invite disaster. So it was time to do what I always did—pretend.
If only I could put the two of them together somehow, that’d be the perfect solution. Jigen’s loyalty and Fujiko’s fire....
Unfortunately, that technology hadn’t been invented yet, no matter how far back through history and secret government files I dug. And besides, that poor creature would have so much cognitive dissonance, it’d die.
I sighed and spread a few papers around with my fingertips, running the potential payoff numbers in my head again.
If Fujiko needs this much, but Goemon’s retainer is that much...and then Goemon and Jigen both need XYZ to feel like it’s worth it...but then Fujiko’s gonna break off at that point and ask for more...so I’ll need that as a decoy and this as a reserve, and then to keep Jigen and Goemon happy, I’ll have to—
A coffee cup came down in my view, and then a hand, over mine.
It was warm....
“Hey,” Jigen whispered, bending down until he could get a good look at my face. Since his hair was pulled back and his hat was no where to be found, it offered up a stark view from the norm—one that showed how kindly his eyes looked.
“Get some sleep, huh?” He smiled for me, weakly, and then ran his free hand through my hair, thickly. “You look miserable. Whatever you’re doing, it’s not worth it.”
I smiled back at him, though it hurt.
The truth was, I ran a little company, two of the three employees of which were only there because they were in love with me and, barring that, the fact that I could bring them money. My life was held together almost entirely by my magnetism and bacon-bringing abilities. I was the lynchpin; without me, none of these people would even have a reason to speak to each other, and they probably wouldn’t.
It was my responsibility, and mine alone, to keep it alive.
Hand settled against my scalp, Jigen leaned foreword and placed a soft kiss on my forehead.
But someday this would all dry up, and I’d be alone again.
But that’d be okay. I’d started alone, and I’d end alone. I’d survive, though it wouldn’t really be fun. It’d be tougher. It’d be colder, and lonelier. It would only be me and Pops, though I’d outlive him by about twenty years. And he’d retire about twenty years before that...
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jigen asked.
Assuming I didn’t just get myself shot or executed.
Which...hell, even he’d tried to flip the switch on me a couple times. It was only my own resourcefulness that’d kept me alive.
I didn’t blame him for it, and he’d felt bad about it. But yes, even Pops's considerations had a breaking point. His end goal, after all, was to have me extinguished from the planet. That’s what he got paid to do. Competing business.
“Hey...,” Jigen said, quietly, distantly, his hand carding through my hair. “Hey, why are you crying...?”
The truth of the matter was, no one in my world loved me because I was the one for them. They simply liked me because I was there. Because I was kind to them, and gave more than I took.
It was amazing, really, how easily people would fall in love with you, if you just provided them with a certain ratio of kindness to troubles.
Jigen abandoned the table entirely and cupped both of my cheeks in his sizeable hands. Steady and warm and drowning in his shadow, I closed my eyes and breathed in his scent, pushing back the heat in my face.
My father had once convinced me to give him my organs if I ended up in a coma, and he’d then proceeded to help me get there. Grandfather hadn’t been much better. I couldn’t get my family to love me no matter how many years I’d dedicated myself to trying.
And then, I get out into the wider world, and it turned out my efforts got me all the love I could ever want. I’d tried so hard for people that didn’t care, that once I met people who were capable of even giving the smallest damn, my attempts took hold of them like a spell. And I couldn’t turn it off, because the attempts had been so ingrained in me for so long.
He kissed me again, this time on the lips.
The only thing was, I didn’t want love, or adoration. I just wanted someone who wouldn’t goddamn leave.
I put my hands around Jigen’s waist and gripped it tightly.
His tongue parted my mouth, and when I sobbed into his skin, his fingers, having slipped down to my neck protectively, tightened against my skin, leaving divots.
The thing you wanted most was the one thing you could never have; I knew that.
But when he kissed me, long and insistent and tender; when he held me tight, whispering that he loved me; when he listened to my tears, wanting me to be happy...
I thought that maybe, just maybe, I’d gotten it.
“It’s okay, Lupin. Whatever’s wrong, it’ll be okay. My love is free, remember?”
Even if he was the one person in my life I didn’t deserve.
“I’m sorry, Jigen, I’m sorry....”
His answer was simply to kiss me again, and again, until all the tears were gone.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, you hear?... Now tell me what’s wrong. What’s got you so upset...?”
When Jigen kissed me, long and insistent and tender; when he held me tight, whispering that he loved me; when he listened to my tears, wanting me to be happy...
...Those times, I kissed him back just as hard.
Because if I didn’t, I’d only lose him all the sooner.
“...I love you too, Jigen. I love you too."