Signas calmly surveyed the auditorium from behind his podium, checking his internal chronometer. "Almost time to start. Is everybody ready?"
X nodded from his right. "Yeah."
"The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get out there looking for that silver-haired bastard." Zero, standing at his commander's other broad shoulder, folded his arms across his chest and frowned.
"You'll both get your chance," Alia's voice rang from their helmet speakers. X looked at Signas, who was busy conversing with Douglas. Apparently, that last line was for their ears only. She was back in the control room, watching the presentation room on the main viewer. "Just remember not to let your feelings about Dynamo get in the way. He'll be expecting that."
"Don't worry," X whispered, "he's outsmarted us one too many times. He's got to be stopped, and we can't do that if we're dead. We'll be careful."
"I hope you didn't think that would sound completely reassuring."
"Sorry."
"It's alright. I'm serious, though. If it comes down to just the two of you and him, be careful." X recognized the faint click that meant Alia had terminated her link with Zero. "Especially you." He heard the click again, and assumed everyone could hear her now.
The room continued to fill. The massive 7th Air Calvary filed in and took up a full four rows. "Excellent," Lifesaver muttered. "Pretty soon they'll all be here, and Douglas and I will be able to tell them just how screwed they are."
Douglas cut in nervously, "Boss, I've got some bad news. I've had a chance to look over that new data they sent us, and humans aren't the only ones vulnerable to it."
Signas balked, but recovered quickly. It wouldn't do to look completely clueless in front of every single Hunter on active duty. "Two questions, Lieutenant: just what exactly does that mean, and why am I just hearing about it now?"
Yow. Rank calling. I deserved that. Douglas shifted, glaring at Lifesaver. You so owe me, he mouthed. "I found it buried in the technical documents they sent us about five minutes before I got here."
Lifesaver apparently decided it was impolite to let his friend get glared to death without offering a little assistance. "Don't blame him, Signas. We didn't find it because it was almost completely hidden. I checked the list of indications and effects they sent almost immediately after the conference was over. I didn't find anything that looked like it affected us. It just wasn't there."
"But?" Zero asked. "Come on guys, we're gonna start to look pretty weird when the place fills up and we're having a private meeting."
Douglas took over. "I didn't worry too much about corrosiveness, since their documents didn't mention it as a serious problem and, idiot I am, I believed them. I wanted to check out the exact level of resistance, though, to try to get an idea of what kind of wear and tear my engineers and I would be dealing with, so I looked at the ingredients in question myself. At first, I didn't believe what I was seeing, but I checked it with our resident CMO, and he confirmed my suspicions. Apparently, the Stupid Scientist Brigade only tested for human skin and Titanium-X body armor corrosion."
"What else is there?" Alia asked. This time, everybody heard her.
"Not much," Lifesaver grumbled, "if you don't mind having your face melt off in ten seconds flat." X and Zero stood slack-jawed.
Signas' fists clenched, but he kept his face placid. "Explain. Now." No one seemed to care what their audience was thinking anymore.
Douglas frowned. "I don't know how they did it without realizing it, but they managed to build in a nice side-effect: this stuff will dissolve synthetic skin, and the semi-organics our eyes and other soft tissues are made out of faster than it'll eat human flesh. Get caught in a cloud of it unprotected, and you're all but finished."
"Shit." Everybody looked dumbly at Zero. "Well, what did you expect me to say? This sucks."
"No kidding." X looked out at their growing audience. Five, maybe ten more minutes, and they'll be expecting us to say something. "This is just great. How could they overlook something like this?"
Lifesaver looked at the seething Blue Bomber. "Try not to overheat."
"Well," Alia's musing voice flowed into her friends' speakers, "they meant this to be a weapon for use against humans, right? I'm sure the vast majority of testing time and simulations went into seeing how it would behave in the intended operational theater. I doubt they had enough incentive to spend vast amounts of time and money doing extensive testing on something they didn't expect to ever have a major chance of happening."
"Makes sense," X agreed, "after all, these are the same people who didn't bother to develop an antitoxin concurrently with their doomsday weapon. I still can't get over how that could have been greenlit."
Zero laughed darkly. "Haven't we already decided they're all complete nimrods? As for the lack of proper testing, if money was an issue, you know they weren't gonna spend it on us. We're 'just reploids.'" Everyone nodded grimly.
"You're probably right," Alia conceded, "but I wasn't going to say it."
Great, X thought grimly, now we're in even more of a mess. As if the situation wasn't horrible enough.
Signas seemed to have quashed his anger a bit. "This isn't your fault," he said finally. "At least you found it when you did. Ideas?"
"Yeah, don't be around when this stuff goes airborne," Lifesaver said. "Douglas came up with a pretty good stopgap solution, actually. Not anywhere near perfect, but I think it's the best we're going to get."
The engineer nodded. "It's a simple solution, and like he said, it's not perfect, but I really think it's our best option considering our time window. In fact, we got lucky: it's already partially implemented. Standard reploid combat armor is sealed up to the neck, so the only place we really need to be concerned about for most of people is the head. Now, here's where we get really lucky: the retractable face-plates built into standard reploid battle helmets for underwater operations are made of high grade plexi."
Alia was still listening. "You said standard combat helmets. Not everyone uses those. There's also a significant amount of people who don't use the standard airtight armor. What about them?"
X nodded, remembering his second in command. Lieutenant Commander Quinn didn't wear standard armor because he was built with a heavy-gauge defensive exoskeleton, and a lot of his body was exposed as a result.
Douglas' face fell. "That's where it falls apart. To be honest, the people fitted with non-standard, custom armor usually can't fit into the regular stuff, and if they can, it requires custom parts be manufactured. Protective solutions for them would have to be built on a case-by-case basis. I can protect the majority of our forces, but right now, I don't have anything to fit him, or several dozen other people, and it'll take weeks to get that many custom jobs measured, filed, and built. Either we send a lot of people out unprotected or barely protected, or we keep a vast number of our forces at home under lock and key. I'm sorry."
"Alia, are you still listening?" Signas was eerily calm. X and Zero traded quick impressed glances.
"Yes, sir. I'm here. I'm still listening, and I'm not liking what I'm hearing. This presents a whole new level of risk. I assume you want the number of troops with non-standard armor configurations?" The members of the command staff exchanged looks. Douglas mouthed, freaky.
Zero nudged X. "You've fallen in love with a telepath," he whispered. "You realize that, right?"
"Not now, Zero. Not now." X turned his attention back to Signas. He had to use the l-word. X did his best to force the blush from his face. He knew he wasn't entirely successful. Lifesaver and Douglas were looking interestedly at him. I must remember to hurt Zero when this is all over. He turned his attention back to the matter at hand.
The Grand Commander smiled thinly at their exchange. "That would be most useful, Alia."
"Give me a second." A moment later, she was speaking again, her soft, urgent voice filling their ears. "This isn't good. Not at all. I'm staring at the percentage of non-standards, and combining this number with the one I gave you for humans and undercover operatives who can't wear anything at all just makes the picture look worse: according to my calculations, we're still looking at a total of fifty-one percent of active Hunters who will be unprotected in the event of exposure, as opposed to my original estimate of twenty-five percent. Again, it looks like it's spread unevenly across various units."
Zero whistled. "Damn. Any more bad news?"
"Well," Lifesaver ventured, "I don't know why anyone hasn't made the point that those forty-nine percent that we can theoretically protect are only safe so long as their armor remains airtight. If they're seriously breached while the agent's in the air around them, it won't matter what they're wearing. I've been trying to convince UHNOC to authorize funding for reploid-compatable hazmat armor for years, but situations like this are so few and far between they haven't been able to justify the expense. As for suggesting this is just all a contingency plan, just in case we donÕt intercept the stuff before its used, while that may be true, we've got to look at the difficulty of the task in front of us. It's going to be a close one. We're just as likely to pull it off as end up watching on a viewer when the news channels start running footage of an attack. Damn it."
"Zero," Douglas groaned, "you should really learn when to shut up, you know that? Now look what you've started."
X wasn't really paying attention to the whispering match. "Thanks, Alia." He turned to Signas, "Well, it's your call. What's the word?"
Silence reigned.
Signas looked at his command staff, thought of their missing member sitting in command and control, likely twiddling her bangs nervously and wishing she wasn't stuck overseeing a bunch of technicians. He looked out at the now fully assembled body of Hunters waiting for their leaders to say something, then he looked at X. This is it, isn't it? The snap decisions that effect whether or not hundreds of people under your command are likely to live or die. This is why you hated my job. Well, right now, I don't like it much either. He turned back to his staff, the decision made. Not that I can ever say that.
"The situation," he began quietly, "has not changed since this morning's conference. The only thing that is different now is the magnitude of Hunters possibility affected. We've gone from twenty--five percent to all. Actually, this only validates my decision. I cannot justify sending some Hunters into action while sidelining others because the threat to them is increased. This policy, while at first seeming kind, would be nonsensical. Those that were in the field would be in danger because their numbers would be abnormally small and several components of our forces would in fact be ineffectual. This would increase the likelihood of casualties in those who did see action. And most importantly, crippling ourselves now would mean severely reducing our chances of successfully intercepting the toxin, which as Lifesaver pointed out, are already less-than-good.
"Therefore, I am about to announce that, despite the risks, all active duty Hunters will be placed on full standby, in accordance with standard Condition Red and Code White protocols." He fell silent, waiting for a reaction.
"Understood." No emotion, not that anyone expected any. Alia had her orders, and she agreed with them. In her mind, there would be no need to mince words.
X nodded solemnly. "As unfortunate as it is, you're right: we can't cripple ourselves."
"Yeah," Zero added, "there's no way we can win if we destroy our capability from the inside out."
Douglas nodded. "I'm behind you one-hundred percent."
"Me too," Lifesaver, "but if this does turn into a bloodbath, I'm afraid it'll be worse than anything we've seen in years. Let's hope the Fates are with us on this one."
"Let us hope, indeed." Signas looked out at his assembled army; defenders of humanity and innocent reploids everywhere. They were all volunteers, arguably the most highly trained soldiers in the world. He was about to start them on what could easily become a suicide mission. Angels and ministers of grace, defend us. He checked his internal chronometer, and decided the thing had to be busted. There's no way this entire exchange only took ten minutes. "Lifesaver, I'm going to introduce you before we get to the meat of the briefing. I want you to briefly summarize the climate of increased risk. Don't go into too much detail -- I want to save that for later -- but let them know that no one's safe around this stuff. I don't want to panic them, but I want them to know immediately, so they have plenty of time to get used to the idea and it doesn't look like we're springing it on them at the tail end." Douglas shifted uncomfortably; he knew there was a jab at him nestled somewhere in that comment. "When you're done, mention that we'll go over the relevant safety information before we dismiss them." Everyone nodded in agreement. "Alia, any last minute input?"
"No, sir. Good luck, guys."
"Let's get started, then."
X watched his commanding officer began to speak. Well, here we go. The legendary Commander of the 17th Unit sent up a silent prayer, then turned his attention back to the briefing.
Harry leaned back in his seat, the strength suddenly gone from his body. He managed only one word. "Whoa."
Hermione's voice reeked of stunned amazement. "Yeah. Whoa."
"I guess," Harry managed, strength returning to his vocal cords, "that explains the massive population decline."
"Among other things." She ran her fingers through her hair, surprised at how oily it felt. "Unbelievable. This is absolutely unbelievable, Harry. When I said we should think about science fiction, I had no idea the truth would be so ... so ... outlandish. I mean, I've read a dozen novels about this sort of thing. Campy novels. Everyone liked to write about it ... I don't think anyone ever thought it would actually happen, except Asimov. I didn't either, come to think of it. But really, I think the world could have come up with a more subtle way to prove me wrong."
Harry had no idea who Asimov was, and thanks to the bastions of paranoia that were his aunt and uncle, his exposure to science fiction literature, decent or otherwise, was practically nil. I don't know how this day could get any more surreal. He raised an eyebrow at Hermione. "You didn't? Why not?"
"I don't know," she said simply. "The whole idea of sentient androids," she stopped herself when Harry's eyes bugged out of their sockets a bit. "Sentient. It means, at its simplest, being able to think and understand one's place in the world. Sentient things can think 'I am' and mean it. It's what separates humans from every other animal. And reploids too, I guess." Reploids. Even the word itself was mind-blowing. And as much as she was loathe to admit it, given the information about the awesome violence caused by the proliferation of androids and the Maverick movement, the word and all its implications were exciting.
Harry grinned. "Thanks. Go on with what you were going to say, please."
Hermione looked lost in thought for a second. "I wonder why Ron always thought my ability to pull word definitions out the air was annoying." She blinked. Bloody -- I didn't mean to say that out loud.
Harry's expression didnÕt change, but Hermione didn't miss the sadness that flashed across his eyes. "Nonsense. He thought it was cool, too. For whatever reason, though, he hated having to admit it." There was an uncomfortable pause. "Go on, then."
"Well," she began, "I guess I just thought of the whole idea of sentient androids," Harry grinned and gave a thumbs up, and she giggled, "as a sci-fi clichŽ. It's been done so many times on books and TV, and the stories are always so much alike, I just got desensitized to it. The artificial intelligence research of the twentieth century really didn't have anything to do with creating a working artificial person. I thought of that kind of research as real, I guess; it was plausible. All the stuff in the science fiction books, that was just fantasy. Thought provoking and enjoyable, but nowhere close to ever being real." She stopped again, and giggled at some private joke. "You know what the problem is with being right almost all of the time, Harry?"
Harry shook his head.
"When you are incorrect," she said, "you aren't just off by a little bit, you're all but completely off the track."
Harry smiled. "I think I get your point. But if you were right all the time, life wouldn't be nearly so interesting, would it?" He looked at the set of documents open on the terminals in front of them. "And if nothing else, this is certainly very interesting."
"I can hardly believe it. Someone actually did it; Doctor Light created a child of the human mind. He must have been an absolute genius."
Harry nodded. "I'm thinking that's a major understatement." His tone grew more serious. "Maybe it's a good thing he wasn't around when X was activated, though. Everything he feared came to pass. One power mad man, thought of as a prodigy by his fellows, declared himself and his followers superior and tried to take over everything. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?"
Hermione knew Harry was thinking of Voldemort, and was forced to agree. "Scarily so. But I think Doctor Light would be proud. I understand why Commander X's picture is on the wall. The way this stuff reads, if it weren't for him ..." she trailed off, searching her mind for a euphemism.
Harry didn't give her time. "We would have found ourselves in a world where humans were nothing but slaves, if they were still around at all. Pleasant thought." Well ... that sounded great, Harry. What the hell's wrong with me? The cold, cynical little voice he had discovered earlier in the day chimed in. You're wearing down. How much longer do you expect to keep up this detached, panic-free state-of-mind? You shouldn't be surprised that you're starting to crack. You may have escaped one inferno, Harry, but you've landed in another one that just might be hotter. Harry blinked. It occurred to him in a flash that this was an infinitely worse place to be, and not just because of the circumstances of their arrival and current situation.
When Voldemort was the enemy and he and Hermione were at Hogwarts, they were part of the fight. They certainly weren't at the front lines, but they were in a position to know what was going on and make relevant contributions when possible. Now -- now they were stuck just wandering around without a clue about what was going on, hoping an intractable enemy that they knew almost nothing about wouldn't decide it was time to rain death down on the city. According to the files they dug up, it tended to happen with alarming frequency. They were almost completely helpless, and Harry suddenly found himself hating that. He was beginning to feel more and more like what he really was: a confused kid with no home, only the shakiest of plans, and no real power to effect the world around him.
But I can't admit that. Not now. I've set myself up to be the strong one, the one with the plan. I've made the commitment, now I've got to play the role.
At length, Hermione nodded. Harry wasn't the only one doing a good job of tamping down all traces of doubt and worry. She looked calm and interested, like she always did when she was researching something in the library. "You're right, of course. It's a horrible situation. They've been doing their best to protect everyone for twenty-seven years, and still, three billion people have died. But Harry, we can't just look at it like that. You can't just focus on the worst of it. If we do, we'll be overrun by our own emotions. And yes, I know I'm one to talk. I'm horrified by what we've found here ... Harry, we've been spending the last hour reading about a group of people trying to systematically eradicate humanity. It's terrifying!
"I'll be honest: I ... I'm scared." Harry listened and watched her closely. She really did sound like she was fighting a battle with her own fear, and her eyes now danced with a mixture of sadness and shock. "But ... I can't believe I'm saying this, we have to remember that what we've read isn't just about the bad things. If we let the actions of a horrible few taint our whole picture of the world we're in, we'll be missing out on all the wonderful things we have a chance to see; the people we could meet that couldn't even exist in the 20th century. We're in a horrible situation. If we do lose sight of the good things, what's left?"
"Not much," Harry conceded.
"Exactly." She sighed. "Saying all that doesn't make it any easier to digest, does it? I think ... I think we just made everything official: we're stuck here, and here is a dramatically different place than where we belong. We were never supposed to be here, Harry. We were thrown out of time and ended up in a world so different than the one we know that it might as well be alien. It's ... exceedingly difficult to focus on the positive."
Harry suddenly felt the need to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. When he did, he could feel it shaking under his palm. "You're not the only one who's afraid," he whispered. "But I still know we'll be alright."
She blinked her moistening eyes. Wonderful. I've worked myself into another crying fit. "You really think so? And swear to me you're not just saying it because you think I'm about to collapse into a blubbering wreck."
"I know so," Harry said, banishing every bit of doubt in his mind. He realized, deep down, that he really did believe it, with every fiber of his being. If he didn't, nothing could have kept him going. "We've both got our wands and our wits, and now we know more about the world around us than we did when we got here. We might not have time to answer every question we have, but we're infinitely better off than we were at 10:30. We'll figure out how to get back to Hogwarts. It'll just take some time."
Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. Finally, Hermione sat bolt upright and spun in her chair to look at Harry. "Time. What time is it, Harry?"
The Boy-Who-Lived paled. The appointment. I almost completely forgot. He glanced at his watch. "We need to leave. Now."
"How much time do we have?"
Harry got up and collected their things. "Our bus will be here in exactly one minute."
Hermione was instantly at his side. "Well then. Run."
Harry couldn't figure out quite how they did it, but the proof was irrefutable. He looked over Hermione's mass of hair and saw buildings passing by. How the two of them had managed to get to the bus stop in time, he would never know.
Hermione was busy fussing over Crookshanks. "We're sorry we left you under that nasty dumpster for so long. You must have been so uncomfortable."
Personally, Harry thought Crookshanks looked quite happy when they yanked him out from under the dumpster. He certainly seemed to be enjoying the large rat he had eviscerated. For his part, Harry found the image quite satisfying ... at least until Crookshanks had decided to be generous and drop the bloody rat carcass on his shoes. At that moment, his appetite abruptly abandoned him, and it was still missing.
He reached over and stroked the animal behind the ears. I'll bet you're still hungry, though. He still wasn't sure the shelter they were going to even allowed animals, but he knew Hermione was probably thinking the same thing, so he had no intention of bringing it up. We'll deal with that problem if and when we have to. Too bad I don't still have my invisibility cloak. I could just wrap him up and sneak him in.
"Harry," Hermione ventured, having finally convinced herself Crookshanks was still in perfect condition, "what are we going to do next? After we check in at the shelter, I mean?"
Harry scratched the back of his head -- and frowned sharply when his nails raked over a rather deep scratch. Ouch! "I'm not sure, actually. I figure we should try to get something to eat again. We never really got a chance at the library, and we really shouldn't go too much longer without food. We should probably try to get some rest, too. "
"Yeah, I'm finally starting to feel like I could eat something. Actually, I don't think I've felt this hungry in a long time."
Harry nodded. Excellent. "I know what you mean."
Hermione suddenly began discreetly looking around the bus. "I wonder if there are any of them on here with us," she whispered.
Harry cottoned on almost immediately. "I'm not sure. I doubt it, not if most of them can do that teleporting thing."
"Still," she mused, "we wouldn't know, would we? Unless they were like Todd, we'd have no idea." She paused. "Amazing, isn't it?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah." But frightening, too. Harry was almost certain that if he had not met Todd before he and Hermione discovered the existence of reploids, it would be that second feeling that colored his perception of the whole lot of them. But he knew that would make him a kind of racist. He glanced at his closest friend, reminding himself of all the times Malfoy had called her a Mudblood to her face; how much it hurt her even if she never gave Draco the satisfaction of seeing anything but her own contempt and disgust. She even tried to keep it from he and Ron, if she could help it. No matter what, he would never let himself become a racist.
Hermione yawned. "I could definitely use a nap."
She turned her head to look out the window, and Harry caught her reflection in the glass. She looked absolutely exhausted. Never.
Harry stared out the window again, and waited.
Harry was so deep in thought he almost didn't notice it when the bus stopped moving. "Well," Hermione said, breaking into his thoughts, "I guess this is it."
The wizard looked out the window. The building was huge. Emblazoned on the side, in clean white letters in English and Japanese, were the words "Juuban Women and Children's Shelter." Well, that's subtle, he thought suddenly, they might as well have put up a neon sign. He smiled reassuringly at his companion. "You ready?"
She shrugged, but got up just the same. "Let's get out of here before the bus starts moving again. I don't want to have to drive by the glue factory again."
A few moments later, they were standing in front of the wide double doors, neither of which bothered to open automatically. Harry put his free hand on the cool wood.
Hermione cradled Crookshanks tighter, and the cat purred at his nervous owner. Harry pushed.
The reception area reminded Harry of a hospital, right down to the furniture. The lights were that weird kind that managed to illuminate everything and simultaneously drain almost all color from the room. The comatose tope on the walls didn't really help that much. At least the receptionist's desk was a splash of color -- then again, olive green had never been one of his favorites.
Not that either Harry or Hermione cared even the slightest bit whether or not the place was going to win any interior decorating awards.
Harry took the lead, slowly walking towards the desk. The woman working there was immediately everything he had expected: she looked in her late forties, with blue eyes and curled brown hair. She wore jeans and a black shirt emblazoned with the name of the shelter, and smiled at them.
She couldn't speak, though: she looked to be stuck on the phone with someone performing a rather long monologue. She nodded, making an affirmative sound at whatever the phone-voice was saying, and looked the two of them over. Picking up a pen, she jotted down a note on a piece of paper and showed it to them. One moment, please. On phone with incredibly obnoxious boy who thinks he's a man. Cute kitty, dear. Harry and Hermione looked at each other and grinned.
Finally, it looked like she was going to get to speak. "Yes," she said finally, "I understand that. But it isn't our fault the payment got there late -- it was submitted on time. Look, you admit it's there. You said it'll be processed by the end of the week, anyway. You'll get your money. I'm going to ask you one more time: please donÕt cut off the electricity. As many people who live here -- even if we didn't have it for twelve hours, it would be a disaster." She listened for a moment, a look of triumph spreading across her face. "Yes, you go talk to your supervisor and call me back. No, thank you." She hung up the phone. "Twit." She turned her attention back to Harry and Hermione. "Sorry about that, dears. The fun never stops, as they say. I'm Mrs. Dawson. What can I do for you?"
"We have an appointment to see about rooming here, ma'am," Hermione said simply.
She smiled kindly. "Oh, of course! I sort of figured, but I didn't want to jump to conclusions. What are your names, honey?"
She reminds me of Grandma. Only younger. The thought was comforting and sobering all at once. "I'm Hermione Granger," she replied confidently, "and this is Harry Potter."
Harry nodded. "Good afternoon, ma'am."
"Pleasure to meet you. Give me just a second, let me pull you up on my screen here." Mrs. Dawson stepped over to a terminal, the most modern thing in the entire room, and began to type. She read the display for a moment. "Oh! It looks like we've been expecting you. And you got here with time to spare. Wonderful! How're your new glasses, Harry?"
"Excellent, ma'am."
Such a well behaved pair, the matron thought, and so clean looking. Don't know why that boy's carrying a broom, though. That's a bit weird. Maybe he's been working as a street sweeper, or something. It's not like he could fly on it or anything. "Now," she said, picking up a black tablet, "I've got to get you registered. It only takes a few minutes. Why don't we go over here and sit on one of the couches? If anyone comes in the door, they can ring the bell, otherwise, we shouldn't be disturbed. Unless that loon manages to get his supervisor to call, but that's beside the point. Would either of you like something to drink?"
Hermione spoke first. "Water would be splendid, ma'am. It's a little warm out there."
"That sounds good."
"It is a bit warm, isn't it? You're in luck: I won't even have to run to the kitchen." She knelt down and pulled open a door under her desk, producing two bottles.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Dawson," Hermione ventured as they walked towards the couches. Harry glanced at The World's Most Anti-Social Cat (and given the nature of cats, that was saying something) and figured he had a pretty good idea why.
"Yes, dear?"
"My cat -- his name is Crookshanks -- he won't be a problem, will he? I mean, can he stay here?" She wasn't happy with the way her voice was fluttering, but there was a sizable part of her that absolutely abhorred the idea of losing him. Something that was almost desperation tainted her voice.
Oh. Well, I should have seen this coming, shouldn't I? I hope I don't have to say no. "Well, now, let's see. Where did you get him, dear?" Probably a stray. If he hasn't had his shots, he'll have to go. Look at that smashed face. Poor thing looks like a hover-cycle hit him.
Hermione seemed to realize where this was going. She took a deep breath. "My ... my ..." Suddenly, Harry's hand was in hers, squeezing gently. She steadied herself. "My parents gave him to me ... years ago, for my birthday. We bought him at a pet store. He's had all his shots, and he's very healthy. But," she decided she might as well be as honest as possible, "I haven't been able to renew his registration since it ... expired."
"Oh." Well, Amy, that was a brilliant move. I'll have to work on being even less subtle. Oh, dear; I've really trampled it up this time. "Well, Hermione -- such a pretty name, by the way -- I'll take your word for it. You don't seem like you would lie to me. We let our guests keep pets here, as long as they're not sick. Now, you'll have to be careful, though. You said he wasn't registered. Do you mean he doesn't have an identification implant anymore?" That's a bit unusual. Those don't 'expire.'
"Yes, ma'am," Hermione said quickly, trying desperately to think up some sort of reasonable way to get out of the hole she was digging, "He got in a little accident -- it was damaged, and I had to have it removed. I don't have enough money to get it replaced yet." She crossed her fingers in her pocket. I hope I just made some sort of sense. At least I sounded like I believed it. Harry must be rubbing off on me.
Fair enough. "Oh, well, that's certainly unfortunate. Like I said, we don't mind healthy pets here, but you'll want to be careful. I'm sure you know that if he gets out alone a drone from animal control is likely to pick him up."
Drone?! What in blazes is that supposed to mean? "Oh, yes, I'll be careful with him," she said smoothly. Looks like I pulled it off. "We've already had a few close calls. I'm not going to let that happen again anytime soon."
"Well, then," Amy smiled, "I'll get him a litter box later. We keep a couple of extras around."
"Thank you, ma'am." Hermione grinned.
Crookshanks was pleased. Apparently, this old one was smarter than he thought. If she was going to try to separate him from his Hermione -- well, she had another thing coming. And it was likely to be quite painful. He looked at his front paws, and retracted his claws. Maybe another time.
"Of course, dearie. Now, we'd better get to work on these forms. Now, are either of you seventeen?"
Harry shook his head. "Not quite yet."
She nodded, and tapped the tablet with a stylus. "Well, neither of you are going to have a national identification number, then. But judging by your accents, I'd say the two of you aren't from around here, are you?"
"No, Mrs. Dawson," Harry responded, "we're from England."
"Well, you're certainly a long way from home, then, aren't you?"
Harry nodded solemnly. "A very long way, I'm afraid. As for how we got here ... it's a long story. It doesn't look like we'll be able to get back anytime soon, unfortunately." Hermione shot him a dark look. Oops. Should have phrased that differently.
Well, so much for them being in any of our databases here, the older woman thought. "Let me enter in a little preliminary data," she said. She began to work with the stylus again, all the while thinking hard about her newest arrivals.
Amy had worked at the Juuban shelter for nearly fifteen years, and she enjoyed her job. It wasn't always pleasant, and the shelter was only open because something was drastically wrong with the world, but she loved helping people, especially children. She had dedicated her life to the task, going at it with all the vigor she could muster.
In the last three decades, she had taken care of a great many children, every one of them different. Looking at the two before her now, though, she had the feeling she was looking at an especially unique pair. Their eyes gave away the amazing amount of stress they were under and a deep sadness that convinced her they weren't runaways -- she recognized that look all too well. Their loved ones had been taken from them, and somehow they ended up on the streets. But there was something else. There was a courage lurking there, beaten down but still standing. Well, whoever you are, kids, I'd be willing to bet you've both had some pretty interesting lives.
She began leading them through questions over the most basic of information: full name, age, medical history, and all those other vital statistics she needed for her files. The two of them did reasonably well, as far as they were concerned -- they only ended up having to fake about half of their answers. Among the more audacious of fabrications were, by necessity their dates of birth and the fates of their parents (Hermione managed to keep a straight face while claiming they were "taken from them" several years ago, letting the woman assume what she pleased). Eventually, it came time for Harry to finish his story.
"After we lost them," Harry finished quietly, "we didn't have anyone. We were on our own. It's been years since then, but we've stuck together. Somehow, we ended up moving around a lot. Without getting into unnecessary details, we eventually ended up stuck in Japan. We've been here ever since, moving around as necessary." He wiped tears from his from eyes. Real tears. Everything he had said, in some way or another, was completely true. He looked at Hermione. She had her eyes closed and her hands over her mouth.
Amy was stunned. If what they told her was even a fraction of the truth (and she believed it to be more than that, even if they were hiding certain information), they were braver, cleverer, and closer friends than she had ever imagined. Some parts of their story were almost comically outlandish -- the idea that they could have migrated from Surrey to Japan, for example. But she had seen a great many children that were absolute experts at lying, and the two in front of her were simply not. She believed them. "Well," she finally said, "it sounds like the two of you have been through a lot together."
"We certainly have," Harry said quietly. "I don't think I could have done it without Hermione. She always keeps me from getting in too much a fuss when we get stuck in bad situations."
Hermione blushed, and playfully swatted him on the arm. "Hush, you. You're a lot more capable than you believe."
Amy smiled brightly. Most importantly, as far as she was concerned, they were both relatively happy. At least most of the time, she thought darkly. That stress in their eyes has to come to the fore every once in a while. "Well, now that we've got all your paperwork done, I'm happy to say that you're officially registered here. Now, and I'm not trying to suggest anything, I promise, I assume the two of you are used to sleeping in the same place."
Harry blinked in confusion. Hermione's mind was moving at warp speed. Based on the story we told her, we usually would. Not together, but in the same room, if possible. We've painted ourselves as really, really close. Not that much of a stretch, really. She was perfectly comfortable with the idea of sleeping in the same room as Harry, assuming of course they had separate beds and she could change in private. Besides, it's not like he would ever try anything. The idea of Harry making a move on anything was almost giggle-inducing.
"Alright, then," Amy said, and both of them failed to catch the impish look in her eyes. "Now, normally we don't allow unrelated girls and boys to share rooms. But it sounds like the both of you are used to doing that." Harry's eyes bulged.
Oh my God, we did suggest that. Bloody hell. He looked at Hermione, expecting her to be suitably scandalized. Much to his surprise, she looked totally at ease. What in blazes?
"Yes, ma'am," Hermione said calmly, "we share sleeping quarters all the time. As long as there's more than one place to lay down and somewhere private to change, of course. But it's nice, I think, not having to sleep alone, or in the company of some complete stranger, especially as much as we move around."
Harry's brain continued to stall. He expected smoke to begin bellowing from his ears at any moment. Amy nodded. "I understand completely, dearie. You two are also two of the most respectful and mature young people I've met in a long time. Given that and the uniqueness of your situation, I'm going to do something I don't do very often, but you can't make a big deal out of it. I'm going to give you a room with two twin beds, like a double at a hotel. But there's a condition, and I don't think you'll have any problems complying with it. Under absolutely no circumstances is there to be any canoodling. Do you understand?"
Hermione nodded eagerly, despite her blush. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you so much."
Harry nodded dumbly, his own skin the color of the Gryffindor flag. "Yes ... yes, there will be none of that." What just happened here?
"No problem, dears. Just don't make too much of a fuss about it around the other children." She got up. "Now come along, dears. Doctor Thompkins will want to give you both a full once-over, and then we'll need to get you some food. The two of you look positively famished."
The phone rang.
"Oh," Amy hissed. "Just a minute. It better not be those idiots at the power company again."
Alia ducked just in time; she could feel the coolness of X's boot as it brushed against her scalp. Crap! He's really going at it this time. And the look on his face! He looks so relaxed. The voice of her subconscious cut in. You're getting distracted. Watch out! X's foot abruptly made contact with her abdomen. She doubled over with a yelp and found herself looking down his buster. It was charging. No!
X lowered his arm cannon, and smiled. " Excellent. You've got to remember, though: never stop moving. You're going to be, unfortunately, slower and weaker than almost anyone you fight. You were designed that way. You read incredibly well, though. But you've got to remember to keep your distance, and never stop moving until you're ready to attack. But you did great. Four minutes that time."
Alia straightened up, deactivating her own buster. Don't know why I even bother with the thing. I only got two shots off, and managed to miss both times. I don't know how he puts up with me. "You do realize I'm still dead, technically."
X nodded. "Yeah, but look at it this way. You held me off for four minutes. When we started this, you couldn't last more than thirty seconds. And I was holding back then even more than I am now."
Alia grinned. "You're amazing, you know that?"
X raised an eyebrow. "What?"
She tapped his helmet playfully. "There's no way you should have been able to make that sound like a compliment."
The Blue Bomber shrugged. "Sorry ... I think. But it's true. You've really improved."
She smiled. "Thanks." There was a pause, and she suddenly looked uncertain. "Do you ever stop to think about how weird this is? I mean, we're dating now, and you spend an hour a day teaching me to beat you up. Is this unhealthy?"
He nodded. "I think about it a lot, actually. I know why its worth doing, but I'll be totally honest: I'm glad it was your idea."
Alia walked to the cabinets next to the door of the white-walled training room and scooped up her headset. She put it on, but didn't activate it. "Oh? Why?"
"I don't think I was ready to admit that it was necessary," he said with a frown. "Everything you said when you asked me to start training you -- none of it was new to me. I'd thought about all of it before, but there was no way I was ready to say it. I wanted our relationship to be as normal as possible, and I wasn't ready to talk about the complications. I knew we needed to, but I just ... didn't want to ruin the illusion or normalcy, I guess."
Alia didn't like the uncertainty in his voice. For one thing, she didn't like the idea that she had anything to do with putting it there. For another, there was the whole matter of her not picking up on it six months ago. No one person should be allowed to be so secretive. "Why not?"
I can't believe we're having this conversation now, of all times. Oh, well. There's no time like the present, as long as something doesn't blow up while we're talking. "It's a bit of a long story, actually. Are you sure you want to hear me act depressed?"
"I wouldn't call it acting depressed. The things we do ... most of it's not pleasant, but we do it anyway. Like you tell the newbies, Hunters do what we do because it has to be done. I think talking about this kind of unpleasant stuff is a required part of being more than friends. The only relationships that don't have their serious moments are in the heads of little girls. That makes it something you and I have to do, doesn't it?"
X smiled thinly. "When you put it that way ... it still sounds like the most enjoyable thing since income tax forms. You're right, though." The smile flickered and died. "I'll be perfectly honest, Alia. You're the first person I've really dated in almost fifteen years, and the first person I've had a serious relationship with in almost twenty."
Alia's mouth was moving, but she couldn't manage to get any sound to come out. What? Why? "I'm not sure I understand. Why wouldn't you date for so long?"
X chuckled. "Oh, I tried. Well, it's not like I was out trying to gather a harem -- despite Zero's advice -- but I was interested in meeting people."
Okay. Now we're standing in a training room, in the middle of a Condition White, talking about his love life before we met. My life is so normal. Nevertheless, "Go on. Why didn't it go well?"
"I didn't have much time to even think about it for the first few months of my life. By the time I actually got the chance, the first Uprising was in full swing, and the next thing I knew, I was a Hunter Lieutenant. I still don't know how I ended up starting with that rank. I mean, there were only ten of us that were rated for field duty. But that's beside the point. By the time I actually had time to sit down and even think about meeting someone, just before the Third Uprising, I was," his voice deepened, and he did his best to sound like a monster truck rally announcer, "Commander Mega Man X, man of action."
He shook his head. "I think that was the problem. Whether I liked it or not, I was a media popstar. That intimidated a lot of very nice people, and I ended up attracting a horde of people who were just interested in dating a celebrity. Almost none of them cared a thing about dating me. Those few that did," his face darkened, "didn't work out. As much as they might have liked me, as much as I liked them: they were afraid of me, I think. Getting close to me ... getting close to me means my enemies are your enemies. No one really wanted that kind of complication, and I can't say I really blame them. After a while, I just sort of ... forgot about it. Does that sound pathetic?"
Alia clenched her jaw so tightly it almost hurt. How could anyone ... ? But he's so ... Damned sycophants! How dare they try to use him like that. As for the others ... they'll never know what they gave up on. She blinked. Which is good for me, I guess. I mean, if he'd been dating when we met ... whoa. "That doesn't make you pathetic at all, X. Emotional injuries are a lot tougher to bounce back from than the physical kind you're so used to. As for the added risk: I don't know about those other women, but I am a Hunter. I may not be a field operative, but I've already embraced the rules of the game. I'm not afraid of sharing your enemies with you," she smiled at him, "because that means I get to share everything else, too. And it is worth it. Even with all the risks and after the promise we should have never had to make each other, it's worth it."
X grinned, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I think so too. Now that we've gotten though all that, there's something else I think I should tell you, as long as we're talking about this kind of stuff." He looked suddenly serious.
Alia blinked. "What?" What now?
"I think it's vitally important you know," he intoned, before losing it and breaking into a maniac grin, "I love you. There's no one I'd rather spend my life with, past, present, or future."
Alia smiled widely, dimples plainly visible, and promptly elbowed him in the gut. She grabbed him by the shoulders, leaned forward, and finally managed to nail him with something, albeit not inactive plasma. When they finally separated, she was pleased to see that X was blushing. If she hadn't been crimson herself, she might have considered gloating. "I love you, too."
They stood that way for a long time, the sharp, experienced emerald eyes of the reluctant champion gazing into soft, brilliant sapphires of the seasoned spotter. The younger reploid wished they could have stayed like that forever, but they were in the middle of a crisis, and she didn't have that luxury. One of the unpleasant things beckons. Finally, she spoke. "I wanted to ask you -- are you feeling better? You seemed frustrated this morning, after the meeting. More than usual. Is everything alright?"
X raised an eyebrow, but he didn't look upset. "Was it that obvious?"
She shook her head. "I think everyone else was a bit too preoccupied with Zero's performance. I know you were angry," I felt the chills go down my spine to prove it, "but I couldn't shake the feeling there was something else bothering you." And sense you're usually so damned hard to read, I can't help but think you wanted me to figure it out.
X nodded. "There is." He sighed. "After this morning, I got a wicked case of dŽjˆ vu."
Alia's eyebrow shot up. "Oh? I'm assuming this wasn't the pleasant kind."
"You've been hanging around me too long. You're getting really good with vicious understatements." He leaned against one of the white walls and seemed to lose a battle with his mouth. It broke into a full frown. "I know you're familiar with the Paris incident."
She nodded, watching her boyfriend's skin slowly turn green. She felt her own stomach knot. "I read about it when I was in school. Not that it said much. Most of the details prior to the detonation are classified. Once I got here, I got clearance to look them up, but I never have."
"Why would you? They aren't pleasant. But the thing that got me this morning: Paris never should have been destroyed. It was one mistake after another on our part, and the situation was just like this one. The only thing that was different was the source: Sigma's scientists came up with the design on their own. We wouldn't have found out about it before the detonation if he hadn't announced it. He dared us to find his bombs. He knew we wouldn't be able to. He'd planted so many decoys and too much bad information ...
"Intelligence narrowed the list down to several possible locations for detonation -- not that we had any idea where in those cities the bombs might be, or even how many there were. So, we went to work. I personally found decoys in Dallas, Toronto, and London. London. I was so close. Eventually, we'd checked everywhere we wanted to check. Nothing. Later, we found out most of the information we'd used to try to track them down was planted months in advance. The second night after his announcement, Sigma apparently decided we'd been shown just how powerless we were without the proper intelligence, and he called us up and pressed the button. Paris went up in flames while we watched."
X's fists were clenched now, but Alia couldn't tell if he was furious or on the verge of tears. Neither possibility was very appealing. "Now it's happening again. Dynamo's gotten away with stealing a weapon capable of killing millions. We have no idea how he did it, where he is, or who his employer is. No one's going to say it in a briefing, Alia, but there's only two ways this can be resolved. Either Dynamo's slipped up and left us some sort of clue we haven't found yet, or ..." He shut his eyes tightly.
She nodded, suddenly pale. "Or." I hadn't even thought about that. Of course, I wasn't there. I wasn't even born yet.
X sighed. "Alia, I'm afraid. As the situation stands, our probability of success is terrifyingly low. Without intelligence, we're paralyzed. Last time, we didn't get lucky." He chuckled darkly. "But don't tell anyone. I pretty sure I'm not allowed to be afraid." Bitterness tinged his voice.
Damn it. He's right. Either Dynamo slips up, or we lose. And he's seen us lose this one before. This must be awful for him. She moved so she was looking him straight in the eye, wrapping her arms around his waist. She soon felt his arms encircle her abdomen. "But you won't give up, will you?"
"Of course not, but that doesn't make this any easier."
"Maybe not, but remember this: I don't give a damn about what people think you're supposed to act like. If you're afraid, that's fine. I fell in love with you, not your image." She paused. "And besides, at least I'm not alone this way. I'm terrified, and I like being able to admit it. As much as I'd love for you to tell me everything's going to turn out fine, I'm glad you didn't. We couldn't have a relationship if you tried to shield me from everything that goes on in your head. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah. It does. I'll always do my best to be honest with you. Promise."
"Cool. Now come on. We've got places to be. If we don't show up on time, they'll pick on us again."
X grinned, in spite of himself. "I swear, I'll get Zero for that. I didn't need a horde of rookies giving me the wink and that smarmy clicky sound for two weeks."
"Ha," Alia giggled, "at least you didn't have to deal with Beth. If she ever retires, she can make a living writing torrid romance novels. Let's get going ... happy pants." She smiled, turned on her heels, and left the room. A fit of giggles could be heard in the distance.
X blinked twice, and then followed after her. Thank God it wasn't Zero.
Harry frowned and looked at his watch. 3:00. How much longer is this going to take? She's been in there almost forty-five minutes. He was done with me in thirty. He looked around the small waiting room. The white floors were spotless; the lights just a little too bright. Definitely just like a hospital. And I do just love hospitals. Shifting in his seat, he looked at Crookshanks, currently curled up at his feet and staring fixedly at the examination room's closed door. "If she doesn't come out in five minutes, I'll let you attack." The cat didn't move, but seemed to relax. Harry found himself wondering if his furred friend actually knew how to count. Probably. He shook his head. Well, I am the bigger, stronger one. I should be able to stop him if he decides to try to eat the fellow. Maybe.
Fortunately for all involved, and the staff physician's vision and reproductive capacities especially, the exam door hissed open abruptly. A disgruntled Hermione walked out, frowning and rubbing her arm. Crookshanks shot from his place by Harry's feet -- once again making The Boy Who Lived feel like yesterday's squeaky toy. "Well," she snarled, "that was pleasant."
Harry's eyebrows furled. "Are you alright, Hermione? You look ... disgruntled. Really, really, disgruntled. You didn't like Doctor Neal? I thought he was perfectly reasonable." Then, quieter, "he totally bought into the I'm-a-streetsweeper business. I think I'll make that my standard cover story."
Good idea, Harry. And you think you aren't clever. "Oh," Hermione hissed, positively fuming, "he's a wonderfully friendly man, and I liked him very much. His blood drawing techniques, on the other hand, were awful. Apparently, I have 'rolling veins.' It took him twenty minutes. Honestly!" She held up her arm. The bruise on the inside of her elbow made Harry wince.
"Hermione? You might want to calm down. You're turning red." He grinned. He hadn't seen her this flustered in years. He knew exactly when, too: the memory was quite vivid. The grin faded some. Thinking about that meant thinking about Ron. Thinking about anything that happened less than six hours ago meant thinking about Ron. Thinking about Ron -- or any of his long dead friends ---- was not conducive to maintaining self-control. "So, what do you want to do now?"
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but her stomach beat her to it. A deep rumbling sound filled the air, and she blushed. "Oh, my. Excuse me."
Harry smirked. "Well, then. I think that settles it. Good thing, too. Now that I actually have time to stop and think about it, I'm starving." He began to move towards the main hall, then stopped, a slightly embarrassed expression on his face. "Hermione?"
Her smirk rivaled his own. "You have no idea where the cafeteria is, do you? Weren't you supposed to ask the doctor?"
He scratched the back of his head, suddenly very interested in her shoes. "I ... um ... got distracted. I'm not very used to being around needles. And no, the needles of the future didn't help my anxiety any. I refuse to relax when glowing, humming gun-like devices are about to pierce my skin. Why don't we just," he looked in the direction they had come, "go ask the receptionist? I'm sure she wouldn't mind."
"That won't be necessary, guys." The two of them jumped about two feet off the ground, and Harry resolved to never be snuck up on, ever again. It wasn't so much an ego thing, but even his heart had its limits. He turned around just before Hermione, who was busy trying to corral Crookshanks before he tried to attack, and beheld the newcomer. He found himself looking into a handsome young face replete with shining eyes and neatly coiffed black hair. He thought the jeans and shirt the boy wore looked clean, if not a little aged. They reminded him off the things Petunia would sometimes send to the charities when she felt she needed to "act philanthropic." This only happened every three years or so, and seemed to require a bizarre alignment of the planets and concurrent lunar eclipse. "I'm Lee," he chirped. "I take it the Sultan of Saline is done with you?"
Harry put out a hand, smiling. Anyone who thought saying "Sultan of Saline" was cool couldn't be all that much of a threat. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."
"Hermione Granger. Pleasure to meet you." She hugged Crookshanks closer to her chest, trying to calm him.
Lee nodded. "I take it everything went well? Amy sent me to check on you. She said you'd probably be ready for some food. The doc can be very ... thorough. I know this from experience."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You say that like itÕs a bad thing."
He almost frowned, but his heart obviously wasn't in it. "I have one word for you, kid. Iodine."
Hermione grimaced. "Ouch." Harry threw in a sympathetic nod. Because of Dudley, he was well familiar with such instruments of pain.
"But," Lee blurted, "that's neither here nor there. You two must be starving by now, I'm sure. After we're done eating, I'll show you around. We've got a bit of a maze on our hands, but hey, it's better than nothing."
"We have no complaints, I assure you," Harry said. "Do you work here?"
The older boy shrugged, face neutral. "Sort of. I've been around long enough that I know how things work. I help out where I can."
"Ah." Harry glanced at Hermione. The look on her face told him she was thinking the same thing: time to change the subject. Now.
Luckily, Lee did it for them. He looked at Hermione, and leaned towards Harry. "Nice cat," he whispered.
"Not really," Harry shot back. Hermione was, thankfully, too busy taking in her surroundings to notice them. "He likes you, though."
"You think?"
Harry smirked. "He hasn't tried to gouge your eyes out yet, so yeah, I'm pretty sure."
Lee's eyes widened, and he looked at the furry animal currently purring Hermione's arms. "Ah. So he's one of those cats. Thanks for the warning."
Harry nodded slightly. "Anytime."
Harry took a bite from his second chipped beef sandwich, idly wondering how ravenous he looked to Lee and Hermione. Well, maybe just Lee. Hermione's eating uncharacteristically ... Ron--like. The bushy haired girl's head was currently lost in a sandwich approximately the size of Gryffindor tower.
Lee finally couldn't stand it anymore. Amy had ordered him to try and find out more about the mysterious pair, so he did his best -- a seemingly inconsequential question here and there, plenty of observation -- and these two were really starting to worry him. "Guys, don't take offense, but when was the last time you two got to eat real food?"
Hermione looked at him from over her giant pile of barbequed meat. "Too long," she said, and it was obvious to Lee that he wasn't going to get anything more out of either of them on the subject.
Odd. What have they got to hide?
Harry swept his eyes over the room, desperate to find something -- anything -- to talk about. He knew perfectly well that Lee was likely under orders to get more information out of them, and really, he didn't blame Amy for being concerned, but he needed time to go over a suitable alibi with Hermione. They had almost been completely tripped up one too many times in the last several hours.
His eyes fell on a photo hung on the far wall. Not only was it a perfect distraction, he was honestly thunderstruck. "Hermione, check out the picture on the wall behind you. "
"What?" She turned around, and her eyes widened. "Wow."
There, on the far wall, was a picture of Amy. She was much younger -- she looked barely as old as Hermione -- and she was sitting up in what looked like a hospital bed. But the thing that caught Harry's attention was the man standing beside her: Commander Mega Man X, replete in every piece of his blue armor save his helmet. They were both smiling at the camera. It struck Hermione again just how much he looked like Harry, and she was surprised to find the thought more than a little unsettling.
Lee traced their gaze, wondering just what was so interesting. When he realized what they were looking at, he grinned. "I guess you would have found out eventually. Amy's good friends with the Blue Bomber."
Hermione sighed inwardly. Personally, she thought it was totally foul the way the media gave Commanders X and Zero such names. It was a seriously inappropriate glamorization of violence, as far as she was concerned. Part of her was very curious to find out how they felt about it. But the question she found tumbling out of her mouth was much different. "How did they meet?"
Lee shifted uncomfortably. He knew Amy well enough to know she wouldn't mind them finding out, but didn't feel comfortable giving them every detail. That was her right, not his. He cleared his throat, and went forward with a highly edited version. "When she was about your age, she was badly injured in a Maverick attack. X saved her life and made sure she got to a hospital. Her parents were out of the country at the time, so he checked in on her for a few hours a day for the next week, until they could get back." He shrugged. "By the time they got back from the US, Amy had managed to bond with the big guy."
Harry gulped. "Not the best way to make friends."
Lee smirked. "I see you enjoy understatements."
Hermione raised an eyebrow, seemingly oblivious to the banter. "He kept her company for a week? That's an awfully considerate thing to do. It's not ... not ..." she trailed off, looking for a word that wouldn't sound too offensive.
"Not something a battle-hardened soldier like X would do?" Lee was grinning again. "X is a study in contradiction. He's capable of -- well, you know what he's capable of, I'm sure -- but he's one of the coolest guys I know. Mind you, I don't know him nearly as well as Amy, but anybody who's willing to dress up in a padded suit and costume and play Santa for four-dozen kids has to be pretty easy going."
"He did that?" Harry was intrigued. It went against the Rambo-like faade most of the library files pegged him with. Well, he thought sardonically, it's nice to know the media has maintained its integrity over the last century and half.
"Yeah, and he loved it. They'd probably name the place after him if he'd let them. He does all sorts of favors for Amy. If she had him wrapped any tighter around her finger, they'd be dating." He paled slightly. "And don't you dare tell her I said that. The last person who even suggested it in her presence ended up cleaning all the toilets. For a month."
Harry smirked. "Noted."
"I'm not surprised," Hermione said. The two of them turned to look at her. "What? Everybody knows you should never cross the constantly-nice ones."
Lee smirked. "If you've already got that down, there's not much I can teach you about living here."
"And this marks the end of our tour," Lee proclaimed, bursting through a set of double doors. " I present for your approval Dormitory Quad Four."
Harry thought it looked a lot like the Gryffindor common room, only with white paint instead of centuries old stone. There were plenty of windows (which Harry thought was odd, as he hadn't noticed nearly that many from outside), and the black carpet was relatively clean. The furniture looks like it should be in a doctor's waiting room. "Lee, where is everybody? I know there's no way we have the whole place to ourselves."
"They're around, I'm sure. Some of the younger ones will be taking naps about now. As for the others, I think they're playing dodgeball in the gym. I'd be down there with them, but I pulled my back the other day. Apparently, despite what my ego thinks, I do not have anything approaching reploid strength." He tossed Harry a keycard. "You guys are in four. I need to run a few more errands for Amy. If you need anything, call extension 1111 on your room phone. Otherwise, I'll see you at dinner." He turned on his heel and skipped out of the room.
Harry whistled, the sound echoing through the empty room. "Well," he said finally, "here we are, I guess."
Hermione glanced around, face blank. "Yeah. Here we are." She stroked her cat.
Harry glanced at her, trying to discern some sort of emotion on her face. Anything. He found his inability to do so very unsettling. What just happened? Who turned the lights off in there? "Hermione? Are you all right? You look a bit," blank, he thought dourly, "distracted."
Hermione started, and the corners of her mouth twitched, trying for a smile. When did you get so observant, Harry? She turned to look at him, a quiet voice that sounded a lot like her mother's whispering insults in the back of her mind. You've never been that good at hiding your emotions or lying, dear. You should leave that sort of thing to Harry. "I'm fine. I just drifted off for a second." Crookshanks writhed in her arms, and she let him jump to the ground. "I was thinking -- I guess -- I guess this home now, isn't it?" She frowned, silently cursing her voice for having the audacity to quake when she needed it most.
Harry found his hand moving of its own will, and a few seconds later, he was squeezing her shoulder. "No, it's not home. We're just staying here for a while." I don't know if you'll think that's better or worse, but it's all I can tell you.
Hermione smiled thinly. "Yeah. I guess you're right." She paused, watching Crookshanks curl up in front of one of the windows. "I guess we should go check out our room, then."
As they were walking, Hermione turned to Harry. "I'd say we handled ourselves rather well with Mrs. Dawson, wouldn't you?"
He smirked. "If you mean we did a good job of pulling a plausible story out of the air, then yes, I must agree."
She nodded, then frowned suddenly. "Though, to be perfectly honest, I was a bit upset with part of your performance."
He raised an eyebrow and gave a frown of his own. "Oh? What did I do?"
"Well," Hermione sighed, "it's not really that important ..."
Harry could tell this was something that was bothering her, and that wouldn't do at all. "Hermione, if I did something that bothered you, you should tell me so I don't do it again. I ... don't like bothering you."
She nodded reluctantly. "Alright, then. It's just that, you know, when she pressed upon us the importance of not doing anything ... inappropriate ... your reaction was very, um, stark. I was just wondering if the thought of, you know, canoodling with me is that disturbing." She looked away from him.
Harry nearly walked into the side of a chair. He could feel his face reddening, but couldn't seem to get his tongue to cooperate. He heard what sounded very much like sniffling. "Hermione, I -- that is to say -- I never meant to -- you're very pretty and all -- no one would be disturbed at the idea -- I just wouldn't presume to overstep the boundaries of our relationship, or imply that I wanted to do so --" He suddenly stopped massacring the English language, his ears finally getting some more useful information to his brain. What he had first thought was crying sounded more and more like giggling. Mad giggling. She turned to look at him, blinked once, and burst into hysterical laughter.
Harry realized he'd been had. At least no one saw it. He looked at Crookshanks, who swished his tail, seeming oddly pleased. Oh, bloody hell.