[FFML] [Detective Conan][oneshot] Lessons Learned Along the Way

[Aishuu Shadowweaver]

Lessons Learned Along the Way
~ A Detective Conan Fan Fiction ~
by aishuu
Notes: Likely should be considered R for under age
sex, dark themes.
Wordcount: 5,700
Summary: Vermouth may have been called a "rotten
apple" but she's really more of an onion. Strip away
one layer, and you'll encounter another, and another.
Even she doesn't know where the real her begins.




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She learns early on that sex is power.

Women are physically frailer than their male
counterparts, but they're also more cunning. She's
only met one man who can challenge her wits, and he's
the only one she fears. He's also the only man who
she's never tried to vamp. 

She grows up under the care of her mother, who is
employed Off-Off OFF Broadway as a chorus dancer. By
the time she comes along, her mother is desperately
grabbing at the remnants of her youth, and holding on
with the tenacity of a starving pit bull.

She never knows her father; she doesn't even know if
her mother knows who her father is. In a way, all her
mother's lovers are her father, because a whore's
child belongs to every man who ever fucked a woman
without love.

She sees the revolving door of her mother's bedroom,
the men coming and going at irregular, though
frequent, intervals. They have little in common, some
small and dark while others are fat and fair. The only
thread to link her mother's tastes in partners is the
fact they all have money to spend.

She doesn't like how their eyes linger on her. When
she's twelve, and her figure starts to show the ripe
promise of the woman she will be, one grabs her ass
and propositions her lewdly.

She thinks on it for about five seconds, then tells
him exactly what he'll have to pay. The man agrees,
and she takes him into her room. Surrounded by the few
plush toys of her childhood and on top of a faded
cotton-candy pink bedspread, she lies naked and lets
him take her virginity.

It hurts like hell, and she doesn't find it
particularly pleasurable, but she finds the expression
on his face enthralling. He thrusts himself in like a
animal, but she ignores that, instead concentrating on
his desperation as he begs her to move, to squeeze her
muscles around his cock, to damn help him, oh bitch,
you damn slut....

She doesn't come from his actions, but the sense of
power sends her over the edge. She praises him as a
good lover, lying through her teeth, and he gives her
enough money to buy the sapphire earrings she's had
her eye on. 

The next day she attends the first her day of her
seventh grade classes.


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She learns that men seldom know what they want.

She never has any hesitation in going after what she
desires. It may be material, it may be for pride, but
she is ruthless when she sets her mind on something.
Men, she discovers, are predictable creatures, guided
by the head below their waists. She's beautiful and
unashamed, and soon she learns how to guide them.

She becomes one of the girls with a reputation,
smoking in the back lot and letting the boys grope her
in return for favors. Some of the rumors her jealous
classmates whisper are true; she does let the boys
touch, but she only lets the adults fuck her, since
she knows they're the ones who really matter. A couple
of the male teachers fall into her schemes, because
she is beautiful and willing.

By giving her math teacher a blow job, she ensures
straight A's. She lets the vice principal screw her on
his desk, guaranteeing his protection when she skips
classes. She's high on power, using her body to
control those men that want her. 

She listens as the other girls dream about love. She
dreams about being entirely in control of her destiny,
and someday not having to spread her legs to find
power. She dislikes the men, but she needs them,
because without them she is nothing. She is only as
powerful as the lust they turn on her.


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She learns that sometimes mistakes have consequences.

She's just turned fourteen, and though she's never
been regular, she notices her period hasn't come for
three months. She worries, and finally goes to a
Planned Parenthood clinic and discovers the truth.

She's pregnant. The damn condom must have ripped.

That night she makes a mistake, and admits what
happened to her mother. It's the only time she ever
breaks down, but she needs to talk to someone. Her
mother's pale, sickened face offers her no comfort as
she admits she's not only sexually active, but has
been for a while.

She's pulled out of school a month later, and goes to
"visit relatives," the way many unmarried, pregnant
girls do. She hates being pregnant, staring at her
distorted reflection as she stands nude in front of a
mirror. Her stomach is distended, and she loathes the
parasite in her stomach. All she wants is for the
ordeal to be over, and she curses her mother for not
letting her get an abortion instead. Her mother is a
lapsed Catholic, and core beliefs cannot always be
ignored. While she herself has no faith in religion,
her mother still retains traces of a faithful
upbringing.

She can't name which of the men she slept with is the
father. All of the men are to her mind, since every
man is responsible for her being a whore. At night she
curses them, lifting her voice with hatred.

Eventually it is time, and she goes into labor. The
act of giving birth lingers for years in her
nightmares as her own personal hell. Thirty-two hours
of pain, as her muscles contract and the doctor, a
tired-looking middle age man, keeps telling her it's
not yet time to push. She screams herself hoarse,
cursing the bastard that impregnated her and the
doctor for his indifference. She curses God, denounces
him, and swears about how unfair this all is.

Finally, finally, finally the ordeal ends and she
gives birth to a healthy nine pound boy. They ask if
she wants to see her child, and she turns her head,
not answering aloud. The nurses - those poor, insipid
fools - think she is upset about the impending
adoption, but they are wrong. 

She can't wait to give him away. She knows if she sees
him, she might fall in love, and totally destroy her
future. She has never loved anything before, and she
sees it as a weakness.


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She learns from her mistakes.

At sixteen, she transfers to a new school, one where
she can rebuild herself. Within days she's the most
popular girl on campus, a member of the cheerleading
squad and girlfriend of the football team's
quarterback. It's horribly cliche, but she enjoys the
role. Underneath she still feels like the same girl
who calculatingly uses men to get what she wants. 

She's learning subtlety, and she starts to think that
maybe she can believe this lie. Being indiscriminate
with her favors has gotten her nowhere. Just when she
thinks she's got the world figured out, things change.
That's when she meets the boss. 

They meet at one of the fundraisers her current
boyfriend's mother is chairwoman of. She's there to
play the part of the sweet teenager eager to benefit
the starving children in Africa. Personally, she
thinks the money would be better spent locally. The
distant image of poverty in third-world nations isn't
real to her.

Her boyfriend has abandoned her because his mother
wants him to meet some people - and some girls better
suited for his station. She doesn't really care,
although she feigns disappointment. She lingers by the
punchbowl, wondering if she should try smoozing.
Connections are power, after all.

A voice addresses her from behind, politely inquiring
about her health. She turns, ready to mouth the
expected pleasantries, but her voice catches in her
throat when she sees who is talking to her. 

He is a handsome man, distinguished, and wears
authority like a mantle. There's something in his eyes
that makes her shiver, though she can't pinpoint it.
Maybe it's the way he's staring into her eyes as she
answers him. There is no lust directed at her, and for
the first time in her life, she feels genuinely
attracted to someone.

They speak for ten minutes, innocuous topics that
don't raise any alarms. She has the feeling he's
testing her. Whatever his criteria is, she apparently
passes. He looks at her, and his hand rests on her
shoulder. It's strangely non-sexual, and she is
confused. She considers flirting with him, but her
instinct tells her it wouldn't be the best move. 

He tells her that if she wants to make something of
herself, she should contact him. He hands her his
business card, a plain white affair with just a phone
number on it.

She thinks on it for three weeks, but puts it away.
She doesn't need anyone to help her. She will make it
on her own.


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She learns that she can only depend on herself.

One day she comes home and finds her mother dead on
the floor, her face swollen from a brutal beating.
It's clear that it's one of her mother's "friends"
that did the deed. She calls the police, and while
they go through the steps, she realizes immediately
that they have no interest in solving the case. Her
mother is just another whore.

There is no inheritance, unless she counts her
mother's usual “friends” that offer to “take care” of
her – an she spares a moment to wonder if her mother's
killer is among them. She's smart enough not to accept
those unreliable offers, having already learned the
lesson about consequences to sleeping with men for
mere money. Each generation seeks to improve upon the
last, and in that regard she is no different than most
people. She will not fall into the same trap.

Her mother's death is the final catalyst she needs.
Though she's a senior in high school, she puts aside
her schooling without graduating. She doesn't have any
career plans, but it seems like a good idea to get out
of Dodge. She packs two bags – one only half-full –
and takes off to find a better life.

Like many beautiful women, she ends up in Hollywood.


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She learns that luck is an important ingredient to
success, but the truly smart people rig the deck in
their favor.

She finds a job as a waitress, like many would-be
actresses. She works nights and spends the days
attending casting calls. A couple of times she lands
minor walk-ons, but she's smart enough to know that
her career isn't taking off the way it should be.
There are many beautiful blond women who want to
become famous stars, and many of them have connections
she doesn't. She thinks about her choices as she
refills ketchup bottles, and scrubs the corner table
after another bastard of small tipper leaves.

A couple of her shady customers note her beauty, and
make her offers. They tell her they can get her work,
appropriate work, and she'll be famous – providing she
remembers that tat requires a lot of tit. One of them
even goes so far as to offer her his card, one which
reeks of a cheap pornography studio. 

But it does serve to remind her of that other card.
She had put the thought of that man out of her mind,
but his card one of the few things she had packed, and
one day she decides she's had enough of being pawed by
middle-aged men with no prospects. She's not desperate
– she never is – but she is running out of options,
and it's better to know what choices remain.

The number is still in service. It's been three years
since they met, but someone she isn't surprised when
he immediately recognizes her name. The tone of
pleasure in his voice makes her wary for a second, but
she asks what he wants of her, and why she should
bother. He simply replies that he thinks they might
have complimentary goals, and he believes her skills
could be valuable to him.

Somehow she doesn't think he's talking about sex. She
agrees, provided she chooses the time and place.

They meet at a diner the next day – not the one she
works at, but the one three blocks away from her
crappy studio apartment – and he looks elegant but not
out of place. He is a gentleman, holding out a chair
for her before taking his own seat. She feels like a
lady, and finds she likes that. She knows her cheap
clothes make her an unworthy companion for him, but he
doesn't point that out.

He tells her his organization is always on the lookout
for talent, and he thinks she would be a valuable
member. She asks what work they perform, and he tells
her there's little that they can't do – science,
entertainment, business, politics, whatever. The Black
Organization is about gathering power, and they'll use
any mean necessary to find it.

It's something she understands perfectly. She asks him
what she can do.

He tells her that fame is a kind of power in and of
itself, and currently there's no member of the
organization that is part of the theater world. She
has a beautiful face, but it's the mind that lies
underneath that is truly valuable. He suggests she
heads back to New York, and he'll take care of the
rest.

She doesn't know why she decides to follow his
suggestion. She doesn't trust him; she trusts no one.
But she does recognize a kindred spirit. He will keep
his word, but she will pay for it. She suspects it's
going to be a very high price. She thinks that there's
nothing that he can demand of her that is worse than
what she's already suffered.

He is a very powerful man. Within three months, she's
opening on Broadway in a role that earns her the Tony
for best supporting actress.


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She learns that killing is easy, at least for her. Let
others worry about the moral repercussions; pulling a
trigger is one of the simplest physical actions she's
ever needed to take to secure her position. Fucking is
a hell of a lot more strenuous, and often leaves
bruises.

She is twenty the first time she commits murder – no,
it is an assassination, since she has no personal
motives for killing the forty-three year old
investment banker. She doesn't even ask the boss – as
she's starting to think of him – for the reasons the
man has to die. She just accepts it as part of her
initiation into the Black Organization.

It's on a Monday, the night when the theater is dark.
It means she has no alibi, but he tells her that they
will never suspect her of being the criminal. She has
no connection to the target, and no one would ever
believe that one of the theater's brightest stars is a
professional hit woman. While Hollywood would love the
plot, experience law enforcement agents are more
familiar with a less glamorous reality.

Her hair is tied up tightly and she's dressed entirely
in melodramatic black, perfect for this new role. She
breaks into his home using a wax key to turn the
old-fashioned lock, and then makes herself comfortable
in his sitting room, perched on the edge of a chair.
The man is a lifelong bachelor, which is why the boss
called this operation “relatively simple.” If she
doesn't screw it up, it will be the first of many. If
she does cock up, then this might be the last night of
her life.

She knows this is a test of her abilities, but she
doesn't feel nervous. She's been spending months
practicing the skills she's going to need, and she's
always performed best under pressure. If there's one
thing she's confident in, it's herself. There's
nothing else to believe in.

Despite the light gloves she's wearing, she doesn't
touch a thing. She looks around at the pictures on
display, likely members of the target's family.
They're all smiling, happy people, and somehow that
makes this whole idea easier for her. She's not the
envious type, but she just believe in divine justice,
even if she has to give it a hand.

The door creaks open about twenty minutes later and
her muscles tense in preparation. She hears shuffling
footsteps as the man sets down his briefcase. There's
a sigh, and seconds later the door to the sitting room
opens. The man see her and there's confusion, but no
fear, in his face. Or recognition, either; obviously
not a theater fan.

She smiles at him as she rises to her feet, and his
jaw drops a little. Maybe he thinks she's some kind of
hooker or something a friend sent. He doesn't have
time to ask, though, because she's shot him through
the head. The gun feels natural in her hands, and her
hands don't even flinch at the recoil. The silencer
keeps the noise down, and she doesn't worry that his
next door neighbor has heard anything to raise an
alarm. She arranges the setting as the boss had
specified, and makes sure there's no trace of her
presence.

Then she climbs out onto the fire escape, leaving a
locked room mystery behind. She takes a hot shower,
grabs a cupful of chocolate ice cream, and watches old
black and white films until she falls asleep. The next
morning she wakes up as usual, and finds that she
isn't at all bothered by what she has done. Perhaps
that makes her a sociopath, but she can't bring
herself to care.


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She learns that she cannot always have what she wants.

She is twenty-eight, and well-respected as one of the
best in her field when he suggests she consider taking
lessons in disguise. It's not a direct command, but
she has seen what becomes of those that ignore what he
advises. He's the one who gets her in touch with a
Japanese magician, and arranges for her to start.

She's never really thought about Japan before, but she
finds the country an interesting place. It's nowhere
she'd want to live, but Tokyo makes a pleasant change
from Hollywood and New York City. It's more packed
than either, and her fair beauty stands out. Men and
women pause to stare at her, but she is used to having
eyes on her. It's a part of fame.

She meets Yukiko while studying under the magician.
She wants to improve her disguise abilities, to gain
the power to portray a believable man. There's limits
to what she can do as a woman, and while she
understands manipulative power, she wants to play on
an even level with the boys.

They meet on the first day, sitting together in a
pleasant sitting room while they wait for their
teacher to arrive. She is content to keep quiet, but
the other woman starts babbling away happily, like
it's assumed that she is accepted and wanted.

Yukiko is unlike anyone she's ever met. The actress
isn't stupid, but there's a carefree quality in her
manner that she is fascinated by. At the end of that
first conversation, Yukiko offers to take her out for
lunch the next day so they can get to know each other.
Still feeling unsure of herself in this strange
culture, she accepts, thinking that Yukiko might
inadvertently say something useful.

To her utter astonishment, she enjoys herself
immensely. Yukiko is one of the most warm, caring
souls she's ever met. Underneath her playful facade
lies a heart that can embrace anyone. She tries to
tell herself that Yukiko is just like everyone else,
out only for herself, but that's not the truth. She's
only made it as far as she has because she can accept
reality for what it is.

Yukiko is one of those legendary good people, who will
always help another out because it's the right thing
to do. She is horrified at Yukiko's naiveté, but a
previously unrecognized protective streak surfaces in
her. For the first time ever, she finds someone who's
actually worth spending time with.

As they learn the tricks to disguise from
Kuroba-sensei, she starts to plan on a project the two
of them can do together. She has enough pull to have
say in who her co-stars are, and she thinks Yukiko
will be eager to break into the world of the stage.
While Yukiko has already known success on her
television serial, this is a chance for Broadway, the
mecca of all true actors. When she finally broaches
the idea to Yukiko, though, she is shocked to be
turned down. Yukiko is thinking of starting a family,
and can't commit to the kind of rigorous schedule live
performance demands. 

She meets Yukiko's husband, Yuusaku, and thinks he's
not good enough for Yukiko. He may be handsome and
talented, but she knows what men are like and what
they really want. To imagine him touching the sweet
Yukiko, feigning words of adoration, makes her boil
inside. Yukiko is too pure to have a man sully her
with his touch.

For a moment, she mentally calculates a scheme to get
him away from Yukiko, but again her instincts warn her
against it. There's a quiet watchfulness in Yuusaku,
and although he looks at her, there is no lust in his
gaze. For a moment she considers trying to seduce him,
but quickly decides that would be unwise. So she
smiles and pretends to make friends, but both she and
Yuusaku know they will never be close. Yukiko,
luckily, doesn't push for more.

A year later, Yukiko is retired, happily raising a
son. She sends pictures of her Shinichi periodically,
most showcasing a child with stunningly blue eyes that
has the good looks of both his parents. Yukiko looks
so happy that a bit of her loathing toward Yuusaku
fades away,

For the first time ever, she wonders what her own son
looks like.


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She learns that there is no God, but humans still like
to play at being Him. She hears about those who pray
for guidance and deliverance, but she sees none of
those pleas answered. It's better to have faith in
herself.

Life has fallen into a steady rhythm that isn't
unpleasant. She does what the boss tells her, and in
return she enjoys the benefits of fame and fortune.
For the first time in her life, her future is secure.
She doesn't need to worry about where the next meal is
going to come from, or earn her living on her back. 

She doesn't date, despite what the tabloids claim. She
does find it amusing at who she is paired with; all of
the young, hot men – the type she's rarely been
around, since they never need to pay for sex. She sees
the badly manipulated images and can't help but smirk.
She goes for years without sex, and finds it a relief.
She doesn't need power over one man; she has gained
power over her millions of adoring fans.

There's still excitement in her life. She finds the
art of disguise thrilling, because she's learned that
different personae give her access to people and
places that are either below or above society's
perceived notions about her station in life. She can
be anyone, and do anything, and there are no
consequences.

She can't help but tease Yukiko with it, when she
finally brings her son to New York City to visit. All
the world's a stage, after all. She dresses as a
middle-aged man, and can't help but revel in the shock
of Yukiko's companions after she unveils.

The boy is Yukiko's son, and she finds her traditional
hatred of men somewhat abetted as she stares into his
face. There is a trace of Yukiko in his features – a
spark of mischief, tempered by blinding intellect.
While Yuusaku is known for his brilliant mind, Yukiko
is at least his equal mentally. In their son, the best
of both of them is combined, and she knows that Kudo
Shinichi is going to be someone to watch out for. She
briefly considers giving her boss a head's up about
this talented upstart – whether as a possible recruit
or possible threat, she doesn't know – but decides
against it. He is Yukiko's son, after all. Yukiko
would not be pleased if she ever found out.

Mouri Ran strikes her as a sweet, earnest child. She
doesn't think on it for long, because she's got other
business to take care of. Unfortunately, the boss has
given her an assignment, and she doesn't have time to
spent with them. She makes her excuses and then
disguises herself as a serial killer who's been
roaming about.

That night she gets in over her head for the first
time in ages. She has chased Mouri Ran through an
abandoned building, set to clean up the mess she's
inadvertently made when it happens. She starts to fall
over the edge of a fire escape, and for a split second
she accepts she's going to die. She is afraid for the
first time in years, but then Mouri Ran steps in and
grabs hold of her hand.

Ran's grip is everything she's never had from another
person; determination and stubbornness, strength and
caring. That Ran can show such compassion to someone
such as her – or even the serial killer she's
pretending to be – takes her aback. Then she is safe,
and escapes, but she leaves a part of her cynicism
behind on that old metal structure.

Her life has been saved, even though she doesn't
deserve it. While she's always slept well after a job,
she doesn't go to sleep tonight. She stares up at the
ceiling, trying to reconcile the sudden shift of world
view. 

She wonders if there really is a God, and if he's
finally decided to play his hand in her life by
sending an angel. It's thirty years too late, but
redemption can come in the strangest forms.


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She learns that sometimes, it's okay to be wrong.

When she's in her forties, she stares into the mirror
and sees the lines of age gathering on her face. She's
still an attractive woman, but she no longer is
breathtaking, the kind of woman who stops conversation
whenever she enters a room. She still rates a second
look, but not the stares of appreciation that men had
once leveled on her.

She is respected in her field, acknowledged as one of
the best stage actresses of her generation. But the
roles she is offered don't appeal, since she's aging
out of the leading female parts. She has never been
any good at taking second place. Her male peers are
still getting cast as leads, while the women start to
look for botox and face lifts to keep a grip on their
good looks. It raises memories of her mother to mind.

She recognizes how inherently unfair the double
standard of attractiveness is. But life has never been
fair, so she can't say she's surprised.

The boss also seems to have less use of her talents,
citing the need for having a younger person do the
more challenging tasks. She can still climb into those
places, and she spends a couple hours every morning
working out to keep her svelte form, but her body is
starting to slow down, her reflexes less than what
they had been. She's lost that edge of fitness that
matters when doing dangerous tasks.

She's stunned to find out that she misses it. While
she is not a woman to lust after blood, she misses the
heady feel of power every time she manages to outwit
her foes. She can't see any victory in store for her,
though, because old age is something that always wins.
There's nothing that can be done except accept the
inevitable.

But there is.

When the boss tells her about the Apotoxin, and its
potential, she can't believe what she's hearing. Then
he tells her the catch; it's highly experimental, and
he doesn't know if she would survive taking the pill.
For the second time in their acquaintance, he offers
to let her make the decision on her own. That, more
than anything, tells her that this is a great risk.

She thinks on it quite calmly overnight, then calls
him the first thing next morning and agrees. He's at
her house by noon, in person, and she doesn't let
herself have second thoughts. She accepts the pill
with a smile, and downs it with a glass of orange
juice.

The pain is indescribable. As the poison races through
her veins, the thought crosses her mind that
childbirth is much, much easier. He is watching, and
she doesn't want to show weakness, but the pain is
unbearable and she needs to scream. Then her thoughts
begin to fade, and there is merciful unconsciousness.

When she wakes up, she sees a face in the mirror
that's been missing for decades. She can't believe
what she's seeing, for while the boss has never lied
to her before, this is unbelievable. She had expected
it to kill her, a fitting end for a beautiful star.
She raises a hand to touch her own, young-again
features, and watches her reflection do the same. Then
she starts to laugh, and can't stop.

She finally has an actual miracle, although it's a man
made one. 


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She learns that it really is a lot of fun to attend
your own funeral. The gathering is huge, and the media
is all over the event. The most enjoyable part of the
whole production is debuting in her new role. The boss
is the one who helps her create the identity,
suggesting something that is so outrageously ironic
she can't resist agreeing. 

A lie is more believable the closer it is to the
truth, and she has spent her life as a Vinyard. Being
her own daughter is a novelty; people speak more
kindly than they did to Sharon. Some also share
stories of what "her mother" did. Almost invariably,
they are complimentary. She listens to their voices
and determines who is serious, who is not. They do not
know she knows them on a different level, and knows
when they're lying. 

The camera loves her again, and while many people
remark on her striking resemblance to her “mother,”
none of them guess the truth. That makes sense, since
the truth defies common rational. She has discovered
the fountain of youth, but unlike most people, she has
no desire to share. There is only one person she would
want to share immortality with, and she knows that
Yukiko would not want it.

The price she pays for her rejuvenation is becoming
more tightly bound to the boss. The Black Organization
is starting to expand, and the boss needs the best
people available to reach his goals. He is its head
and heart, but more and more she is becoming his right
hand. She's not entirely sure what he has planned, but
it's not pretty. His demands are becoming more
intense, and even she is starting to flinch at the
ruthlessness of his orders.

If she is to be honest with herself – and she almost
always is – she's been uneasy ever since meeting Mouri
Ran. While Yukiko is the one person she desires, Ran
is the one person she wants to protect. It's
disconcerting, and she has to sublimate her slowly
developing conscience to do what needs to be done. She
has lived nearly fifty years, and she's not about to
question everything she's ever done.

But when she hears the cellphone chime with that
particular ring tone, a feeling of dread starts to
work through her.


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She learns that mistakes will come back and haunt you
when you least expect it.

She meets two of the boss' best operatives as
Vermouth, and she has to restrain herself from
shuddering. Vodka is nothing particularly special; he
fades into the background, dominated by his more
colorful, powerful partner. When they meet, she knows
the gods are laughing at her for her lack of belief.
Only as divine power would set up such a horrible
coincidence. That, or the boss' ruthless ambition to
possess everything about his operatives.

Gin is a tall man with long blond hair and an
antisocial personality. He smokes too much, and is far
too ready to solve problems through violence. He's
brilliant, in that insane way of truly evil men, but
there's something erratic in his actions. He hates her
on sight, and she's not sure what she feels. She is
terrified of the future she sees for him, because in
him, she sees herself. History has a way of repeating,
and that's what's going to happen to Gin.

Looking at him, she recognizes him immediately. It's
no surprise that he works for the Black Organization –
blood will always win out.

She doesn't want him to know the truth; she doesn't
think it's any of his business, since she has never
laid a claim to him, and never will. She is unable to
avoid him, though, and she decides to make him hate
her. It's the same coin as love, after all, and it's
better to be loathed than ignored.

He finds her infuriating, which is a good thing
because he will never guess the truth. She suspects
that he's not the kind of man who's ever wondered
about his birth mother, except to loathe her. He does
not have the capability of feeling anything filial,
and she can't deny the irony. The apple doesn't fall
far from the tree.

One day, she pushes him too far, and he threatens to
kill her if she doesn't get out of his fucking face.
She declines, reminding him that she is still the
boss' favorite, and killing her would not be a good
idea. Gin grinds his teeth, unable to argue with that.
Instead he demands to know why the hell she won't
leave him alone. She laughs, and tells him the only
truth she's ever spoken. 

"A secret makes a woman, woman," she says playfully,
and then sashays off, swaying her hips in a fashion
that only experience can teach.


______________________

Help, I'm fallen into a weird fandom and can't get out!

Fanfiction: http://www.midnightrevolution.org/quicksilver/
Fic Journal: http://www.livejournal.com/~quillofferings


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