ooc: Log of Fujiko & Goemon doing canon-mates stuff (omg Fujiko has canonmates *SHOCKED*)

[doubleppk]

Who: Fujiko & Goemon
Where: On the way to deal with Momichi
When: Let's go with Wednesday the 25th (can be changed if you prefer)
Why: Dealing with stuff (hmm I need a Goemon & Fuji icon but the only one I have is with them surfing :|)
What: Mostly talking
Rating: PG for Language.



Fujiko shot him another cautious glance for the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes. To say she was nervous about this didn't beging to cover it. Double crossing Momichi was more than welcome in her book. Bastard deserved a lot worse than anything she could do to him a hundred times over. But of course it was just a reminded that the dead could and did come back here. How long before she'd have to deal with Poon again? And not just his ghost. She didn't want Lupin there but at the same time she was terrified that she wouldn't be able to face it all without him.

And in the meanwhile even just dealing with Goemon on her own was unpleasant. They hadn't gotten along since the first time she'd been coerced into working with Momichi. And even with Lupin as a buffer it'd been difficult. How many times had he stormed off refusing to even work with his best friend as long as Fujiko was there too? It had always felt like working with the Beatles to her with her as Yoko Ono. And in the end she wanted to do what she did best and run the hell away. But this time, no running. She was facing it. Even if it scared her half to death.

At least if he got mad enough to cut up the mini-sub she had an aqualung stashed nearby to swim away.

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[ishikawa-juusan.livejournal.com]

The submarine made steady progress, slicing through the quiet hush of the sea. Already halfway to Poft, and they had barely exchanged more than a dozen words. Goemon sat at one of the sleek, plastic benches lining the corridor, shimmering patterns of light from the porthole window playing his face. His eyes were shut, head half-bowed as if in defeat – but his passive if inscrutable expression belied the feeling of high-wire tension wringing his stomach like a wet rag.

Fujiko's looming presence did nothing to help. He had last seen her standing akimbo, frowning a bit petulantly as if she meant to shame him into swimming the rest of the way. But her air had since changed... uneasy anticipation radiating from her body and washing up against him, pricking his nerves.

It was not the first time they had half-grudgingly cooperated with each other, independent of Lupin and Jigen; and he was convinced, from experience, that her offer of help was not put forth without a desire to profit from the arrangement. This was likely her means of ingratiating herself with him, inevitably burdening him with a sense of obligation. No matter how shameful the favour she would ask in turn, his honour demanded that he acquiesced.

Their relationship had been made shaky ever since her role as conspirator with Momochi had revealed her fierce lust for material goods – but, time had since dullened the sting of betrayal. The pain was no longer as raw and personal; it hurt less and less to remember the small, sensual curve of her smile when they had first met, a seeming promise of infinite possibilities. He had simply accepted that it had been a different Mine Fujiko who he had loved as a younger man; a sweet-tempered, demure woman who never existed.

Goemon took a deep breath from his hara, quietly resigning himself to his situation. She knew the soft spots in his pride – and at least, she wasn't going out of her way now to peck at them while he scrabbled for calm and composure.

"Do you have rope with you?" He asked all at once, without opening his eyes.

[ishikawa-juusan.livejournal.com]

This time, he said nothing, solemnly absorbing every word like a sponge. Her intensity pushed hard against him like a blast of heat from a furnace. She was fragile in her anger, tragic in her firm determination to assume the worst of anyone, fear justifying the need to strike at someone believing they would be the first to jump at her throat.

If you close your eyes to everyone, you will never see those who mean to help you... Goemon verged on saying, but bit it back, sensing the message wouldn't sink past her skin.

When Lupin and Jigen had pulled him out from under Sandayu Momochi's foot, he had been all but indescribably relieved, wearing the same expression of glassy-eyed hate he had seen on fellow students' faces whenever Sensei had summoned them in the small hours of the morning. He had been reluctant to grow attached to anyone then, let alone those men who seemed to answer his threats with derisively careless shrugs, those men whose laughs had worked his blood to a boil. He hoped to maintain an icy professionalism and keep them an arm's length away, but somewhere along the lines, his own sentiments had betrayed him. It had been an uphill battle to learn and unlearn, to stop overanalyzing every pat on the shoulder and to find sleep when the darkness in an empty room had felt intimately threatening.

But, in the end, he had finally learned to trust another human being. And perhaps, one day, she would too.