#separateways

He had unlocked the door with a key hidden close by and after silently changing into the slippers in the entrance – just in case his gut feeling was wrong, and the Doctor has just fallen asleep at his desk again -, he made his way through the building. Slow and methodical. The living room first, but, of course, NO LUCK.

It looked, however, completely untouched. Nothing out of the ordinary, with the children’s homework still splayed out on the coffee table.

Next – downstairs, he figured. The Professor’s workspace was in the basement after all and perhaps, he was just there; time forgotten while he was working on his latest, possible explosive, invention. And there was a sound coming from the basement, too, he noticed, as he got closer to the door. Footsteps? Unlike the Professor’s these weren’t heavy footsteps on the old staircase. It also couldn’t be Haibara’s, knowing she was currently stuck babysitting with the others.

Slowly he raised his wrist and unlocked the stun-gun’s mechanism, ready to aim, as the door opened.

He was right. It hadn’t been the Professor coming up the stairs, nor the figure of a seven-year-old girl. No. But it was a woman. With something sparkling in her eyes, that made a shiver run down his spine, he couldn’t help thinking that SHE might be a member of the organisation. Had they finally found them? Was he face to face with another agent sent to eliminate Haibara and himself?

"Hm,"

It almost tickles.

Happy Separate Ways Day, Adawongnation!

i didn't want to. the words press against his teeth, along with the blood and soot streaked across his face. four small knife wounds he won't expose. they twist around his organs and poke holes into his resolve. some old, ragged part of him wants to exhale so hard that his lungs shake and his lips quiver. instead he blinks at her as if she had just spoken in a foreign language. “ that is what i am here for, ” he says. “ to survive. ”

he holds his arm by the elbow, stiff from resetting his shoulder and finding the strength to stand. his knees lock into place. “ you have such low expectations of me. ” he tries again, voice mild to hide the fatigue under each word. “ i thought i left a good impression. ” slowly, he steps closer, placing his weight careful enough to be cautious but not enough to expose weakness. at an arm's length away, he throws over a recording device that lands by her feet.